Ignite and Extinguish
by kaljara
Summary: When Seraphina Sinclair moved back to Beacon Hills, she wasn't expecting much from her childhood home. But after watching a year of supernatural horror pass by from the shadows, Sera's life is thrust back into chaos when she meets the McCall group. And with the alpha pack wreaking havoc, Sera's secret has never been harder to keep. Fire and betrayal tend to leave scars. Stiles/OC
1. Prologue

**Hi, everyone! This is my first Teen Wolf fan fiction, and I'm really excited to share it with you. It's been forming in my mind for the past month, and I think I finally have enough of a plot to start it. I have to warn you, though: Updates will be erratic. It could be a couple weeks before a new chapter is put up, or it could be a couple days. It just depends on my schedule and how busy I am. This fanfic takes place at the beginning of Season 3, except for the prologue, which takes place six years prior to the story line. I hope you enjoy!**

Prologue

Beacon Hills was boringly average in almost every sense of the word. It was a tidy, safe little town located in the northern part of California, but it didn't really stand out in any way, besides the fact that it was secluded. To the normal residents of Beacon Hills, the town was a cozy place to call home. It didn't occur to them that there were odd, even dangerous, things that lurked in the shadows at nighttime. They didn't know anything about the supernatural creatures living among them.

And honestly, it was better that way.

The only people that had supernatural ties were the Hales, and they were a private sort of family, quietly polite but always very reserved. In a sense, it was very right of them to be. The Hales were werewolves, the only local pack around, and they kept to themselves for fear of their secret being discovered.

Joseph Hale and his younger brother, Peter, had lived in Beacon Hills since they were children. Their parents had stumbled upon the town by accident, but they had taken a liking to it almost immediately. They wanted their family to stay far away from the outside world in order to form a strong and secure pack. The elder Hales were wise for this, and their sons stayed in the town where they were born, wanting to honor their parents wishes.

However, Joe Hale couldn't follow the most sacred rule that his parents had set- stay away from humans. He had been fascinated by the way they lived. But he had been even more fascinated by a human girl by the name of Talia Leven. She was beautiful, dark- haired and dark eyed, and she had stolen his heart after only a year. Joe had told her everything, much to his parents displeasure. They didn't understand their oldest son's interest in the human girl, and neither did Peter. He often scolded Joe for pursuing the relationship, claiming that Joe was a danger to Talia.

Talia had known this, and she knew that if she ever wanted to accepted into the Hale family, she had to do the only thing that would make their relationship right- she had to receive the bite to become a werewolf. Joe had agreed to the suggestion whole-heartedly, and after they were married, they started a family.

Joe and Talia had five children: Laura, Derek, Seraphina, Collin, and Libby. Laura was the oldest at age eighteen, and she was wild and beautiful and dangerous. She had long, dark tresses and captivating golden-green eyes that she had inherited from her father. Laura was a charmer; she had a different boy following her around every day, but she never showed much interest in them, or at least, not as much interest as they showed in her. As a senior at Beacon Hills High, Laura had a surprising knack for schoolwork. She could party all night long with the football team, but if she had a test the next morning, she would ace it without a doubt. And though Laura didn't care much for humans, she cared for her family with all of her heart; she was very careful to keep the Hale family secret…although that was the only thing she was careful with.

Derek was their second child, and he was very different than his sister. It was true that they looked the same, with thick dark hair and greenish-gold eyes, but Derek made it known that he was not at all like Laura. He was sweet and quiet, but he was quick to laugh and easy to please. He didn't mind humans. In fact, the sixteen year old boy was smitten with one. Her name was Kate Argent, a girl who was new to the area, and Derek had fallen madly in love with her almost immediately. His relationship with Kate was a hard one, however, because of their age difference. Kate was twenty-two, and technically, it was illegal for them to date, but they didn't let that stop them. Derek was very cautious when his parents asked about the girl he was seeing. He always gave them vague answers, steering clear of prying conversations. Derek also didn't mention how he had trusted Kate with their secret, knowing that she would never tell a soul.

The middle child was eleven year old Seraphina, and much like Derek, she was quiet and calm, constantly observing the world around her. She was very in touch with other people's emotions- sometimes she even claimed that she could _taste _them, much to her parents' amusement. Seraphina was often seen with her nose tucked firmly in a book, and though she laughed and played with her siblings, she was easily the most reserved in the group. She had a special fondness for Kate, though, who Derek had introduced her to only a few days after they started dating. Kate called her 'squirt' and ruffled her short, dark waves playfully every time she came over. Seraphina liked the way Kate walked- it was graceful and effortless, which amused the young Hale girl because Kate was only a human. Seraphina's green eyes were wide and trusting when they were focused on the Argent woman, and she thought of Kate as another sister.

The fourth Hale child was Collin, who differed from his siblings in many ways. For starters, he was loud and constantly had to be moving. Eight year old Collin had a passion for pranking people, and he normally gave everyone around him a hard time. His mischievous nature sometimes annoyed the others, but to Laura, it was endearing. "He's just being a kid," she would laugh when Derek found his football gear on the roof or Libby discovered that her dolls had mysteriously been thrown in the toilet. Collin took Laura's indifference as invitation to continue his reign of terror, and Mr. and Mrs. Hale had little to say about it, either. Collin was a free spirit, they said, too willful to be tamed. His unruly blonde hair and gray-blue eyes were an anomaly themselves, and they were further proof that Collin would not settle being 'average' in any way.

Libby was the smallest and the youngest Hale, and she took advantage of that every chance she had. With her round face, wide green- yellow eyes, springy caramel-colored ringlets, and bright, cherubic smile, she resembled an angel much more than she did a werewolf. She wasn't timid in the slightest; when it came to talking, Libby was the center of attention. The six year old had a very loud voice for such a small girl. And she had a personality to match it. Libby was bossy and somewhat of a tattle-tale; the other children often rolled their eyes when Libby started whining about not getting her way. She also had a tendency to blurt important things out at the most inconvenient moments, and that was part of the reason why the Hales home-schooled their children until they reached high school. They didn't want to risk the werewolf secret being blown wide open, and they knew with Libby around humans, it was always a possibility.

In all, the Hales were very well-behaved and hard-working citizens: Joe worked for a local construction company and Talia helped out as waitress at the local diner. Even Laura had a part-time job at the movie store downtown. With their combined funds, they managed to keep the Hale Manor- the house Joe and Peter's parents had left to them-up and running. The house was enormous, and even with five children running about, it wasn't nearly full. Joe took that into stride, and he invited Peter, who had been living in a small apartment on the other side of town, to move in with them. Peter was the one home-schooled Libby, Collin, and Seraphina anyway, so he quickly accepted the offer and moved into the basement of the large house.

Shortly after Peter moved in, Talia received an alarming call from her baby sister, Amelia. Apparently, Amelia's husband had abandoned her and her two children, leaving them with no money in their bank account and no where to stay. Talia quickly suggested that Amelia and her two children, eight year old twins Zoe and Zach, move into the Hale house. Amelia, distraught, had declined the offer at first, but after a few days, she broke down and agreed. The Leven children were soon living right alongside the Hale kids, and though Zoe and Zach were humans, they were accepted into the pack almost immediately. Talia had told Amelia about what she had become the day after she and Joe had been married, so Amelia had no problem with the strange customs that the Hales had; she watched as the Hale kids romped in the yard with their claws extended, batting playful at each other. She even taught Zoe and Zach how to fight, and had them practice with their cousins regularly.

Deep in the woods, the Hale house was a perfect place for the Hale and Leven children to grow up away from the prying eyes of the world. They were as safe as could be, guarded by Joe, who was the alpha, and the rest of the adults. They never could have imagined that one person, a person who they had considered a friend, would rip everything away from them. Kate Argent had never seemed like a threat; she was sarcastic and witty, but she wasn't cruel or callous. The Hales thought she had a good heart; Kate would often be found reading to Libby under the shady weeping willow in the back yard or letting Seraphina messily braid her dirty blond hair down her back. She was the love of Derek's life, though he was six years younger than her. Derek never would have guessed that the girl he kissed, the girl he sometimes held in his arms late at night, the girl he _loved_, was a Hunter. No one knew that Kate was a killer who despised werewolves. No one knew that her father, Gerard, had sent her to scope out local areas and make sure the werewolves there weren't causing any trouble. No one could have possibly known that Kate had assembled a group of humans that were willing to murder for profit, or that she had decided burning filthy werewolves was an acceptable excuse for breaking the Hunters' Code.

The day of the fire dawned bright and sunny. Derek and Laura departed for school, groaning when their mother insisted that they walk. "It's a beautiful morning," Talia scolded. "And I might want the car today. We're probably going to take the kids to the park." The older Hales grumbled as they left, but Laura couldn't help but roll her eyes and blow her mother a kiss on the way out the door. Derek muttered a goodbye, but he was down the steps before Talia could catch up to him. She had shrugged the issue off- Derek could be moody at times, and she had learned to accept that. After all, she didn't want anything to ruin the day she had planned out for her family. It was bound to be a good day; both she, Joe, and Amelia had the day off, much to everyone's delight. Talia made pancakes for the kids, and then decided she would take a well- deserved nap before they went anywhere.

The day was perfect. Or at least, for a while it was.

The sun was drifting down over the horizon when Kate stepped out of her truck, which she had parked only a few feet away. No one heard her coming as she slipped stealthily through the woods, the misfits she had recruited following closely behind her. The Hales didn't notice when Kate began to pore gas on their back porch, smirking as it drenched the wood. She pulled a match from her pocket and lit it without a second thought. She didn't care that there were humans inside the Hale house; she had watched in secret disgust as Zoe and Zach frolicked with the filthy creatures they called their cousins. As far as Kate was concerned, they were as much a part of the pack as any of the other mutts, and that meant that they, too, had to die. There was no emotion on Kate's face when she threw the match on the porch and watched it ignite.

The fire burned fast and bright. Kate's lackeys busted in window after window, pouring in gasoline and throwing in matches to help the flames. Kate could hear screams from inside, bloody, heart-wrenching screams, but she didn't feel any remorse in the hollow void that was her heart. She only felt a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that she was ridding the world of dangerous creatures.

Darkness was just starting to settle over Beacon Hills when the smoke began to rise into the sky. Kate was nervous about staying too long- she knew there weren't any neighbors for miles, but someone was bound to see the smoke eventually. She just wanted to stay long enough to make sure the wolves died. She would deal with Laura and Derek at a later date; Kate wanted to rub Derek's stupidity in his face, but she didn't want to be caught, so she would lie low for a while until the buzz about the arson became a distant memory.

Or that was the plan, at least, until Kate turned around and came face to face with something she wasn't expecting.

There, not even ten feet away, Kate spotted a person through the smoke. They were covered in soot and ash, but Kate knew who it was without a doubt; she knew that mop of loose curls anywhere, even though the ends of the girl's hair were smoldering-Seraphina. The child stared at Kate with wide, horrified eyes, holding her side tightly with her hands. How she managed to escape, Kate didn't know. A snarl found its way to her lips as she turned back to the two goons behind her, ordering them to kill the girl.

"What girl?" one of them questioned anxiously. Annoyed, Kate turned around and pointed to the spot where Seraphina was standing… only to find it empty. Kate blinked, startled, and peered around the area, looking for any trace of the injured wolf pup. But she was gone, as though perhaps she hadn't even been there in the first place. Kate shook her head, angry that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Seraphina had adored Kate, and so maybe it was guilt eating her insides for murdering the girl. She couldn't have actually have seen her- there was no way Seraphina could have escaped with every exit blocked. There was no way she was still alive.

In the distance, Kate heard sirens blaring. She jerked around and ran for her truck, forgetting about her hallucination for the moment. Her accomplices jumped into the back, and together they peeled out of the leaf-strewn driveway, kicking up gravel as they went. Kate dropped off the men at the edge of town, but she didn't stick around. She drove out of Beacon Hills like a bat out of hell, and no one stopped her. She was free to go wherever she pleased, and with that in mind, she eased up behind the steering wheel.

Kate didn't know that in the woods miles away from her, fire trucks and paramedics were pulling up alongside the Hale house, trying to get the fire under control. She didn't know that in a few hours, Derek and Laura Hale would arrive at the charred skeleton of what used to be their home, and a police officer named Sheriff Stilinski would hold onto both of the children as they screamed and cried and tried to throw themselves at the wreckage, searching for their family. She didn't know-no one knew- that deep in the woods, running in the opposite direction that Kate was driving, there was a little girl.

She was wearing ragged clothes, her dark hair was in knots, and her side was badly burned, but she kept running. She ran even though blood dripped into her eyes, even though her wounds were starting to heal themselves, even though she was leaving the only place she had ever known. She ran with all the strength she had left in her body, and when she finally stopped, she was in a different state, lying on someone's porch. That was when it hit her, all at once. She saw Kate's face bathed in the glow of the fire, a packet of matches in her hand. She heard the screams of her family, felt their terror suffocating her. She felt the sorrow and pain crush her, destroy her, in that very minute, because she knew she could never go back. If she did, Kate would be there, waiting to finish the job that she had already started. The little girl knew that some things could not be undone, and this was one of them. She knew with all her heart-the broken and bleeding mess that it was- that Seraphina Hale had died in that fire along with her family. And when she accepted that, there was no more screaming or fire or heat. There was only darkness, and it swallowed her whole, giving her the peace she needed to survive.


	2. Chapter 1

**Sooo, now that the prologue is finished, I decided I was in the mood to go ahead and type the first chapter. Once again, the rest of the story takes place at the beginning of Season 3, which is four months after Season 2 has ended. From what I'm estimating, I think it's around the start of the new school year, so that's where our story begins. By the way, I forgot to mention in the Prologue that I most certainly do **_**not**_** own Teen Wolf or any of the characters introduced in the series , although I wish I did. I do, however, own Seraphina, Joe, Amelia, Zoe, Zach, Libby, Collin, and any other characters I decide to create. Please read and review: I'd appreciate it!**

Chapter 1: Seat Swap

Seraphina Sinclair. I couldn't get over the name, _my_ name, written at the top of the paper in front of me. What teacher assigned seats by placing already-labeled papers on the desks? I blew a frustrated breath out from between pursed lips, wondering what grade Mr. Harris thought we were in. I'd heard stories of his sarcasm and utter hate for his students, so I decided immediately that my question wasn't an appropriate one to ask.

I turned my gaze to scan the tiny classroom; students were slowly filing in, mumbling and moaning about how their summer has passed too quickly. I honestly couldn't agree more, even though I had spent the majority of my summer holed up in my one room apartment with nothing to keep me company but the hum of the air conditioner. Each student rolled their eyes at the sight of the labeled papers, but they said nothing about it as they sank down into their seats, each looking thoroughly miserable. I ducked my head, hiding behind my dark waves and not making eye contact with anyone.

That was what it meant to be a shadow. You didn't draw attention to yourself, and you never talked to anyone without them talking to you first. It's not like I didn't long for a companion that I could trust; it was that it was far to dangerous for me to have one. No one here knew who I really was, and I intended to keep it that way. Dangerous things happened when you delved into the past. I couldn't risk making a friend, even though I had been in Beacon Hills for over a year now. I couldn't risk their life, or mine.

The teacher, Mr. Harris, slipped into the room and briskly walked over to the board. He wrote his name in an illegible scrawl and then turned around to face us. He was dark haired and wore a set of thick dark rimmed glasses, and he had a sour set to his mouth, as though the only smiling he did was when he gave a student detention. "Quiet down," he said, his voice dry. The class did as asked, nearly falling completely silent. "Now," said Harris, carefully striding up and down the aisles."As you probably have realized, this is Chemistry II, not preschool. I will not tolerate any acting out or back-talk; you will immediately receive detention if you do either."

I already hated this class. I hadn't ever been especially good at science anyway, but watching Harris strut around the room liked he was a god among insignificant mortals really rubbed me the wrong way. I wanted to let a growl escape from behind my gritted teeth, but I clamped my mouth shut and held it in. There was no use in getting overly angry; after all, it was my first class of the day. My first day as a junior at Beacon Hills High had been going off without a hitch until this asshole had strode into the room.

I slumped down in my seat, pulling _A Tale of Two Cities_ from my messenger bag and cracking it open. I tried to block out Harris' monotone speech, tried my hardest to block out the sight of the bland, colorless room around me. I wanted to sink into my book, literally and figuratively. Reading had always been my escape, ever since I was a little girl, but in the past few years, it had been essential for my survival. Some days, when the memories flashed vivid in my mind, I picked up a book and read the whole thing in a few hours. I enjoyed being someone else, even though it was simple a figment of my imagination. In books, the protagonist almost always escaped their monsters; I thought that maybe one day, if I tried hard enough, I would finally be able to escape mine.

My daydream was shattered when Harris slapped a hand down on my desk. I jumped nearly a foot in the air, startled beyond belief. He glared down at me with beady eyes, and I let my book fall closed, swallowing nervously. "Did you, by chance, here anything I just said?" he asked in a deadly voice.

I blinked slowly and attempted to slow my heart rate. Anger was already pooling into my veins, but I managed to shake my head to confirm his assumption. "I see," Harris said, leaning over my desk. "Well, Miss…" He glanced at my warm-up sheet, "Sinclair, I believe that if you hadn't been so rudely reading while I was giving directions, you might have caught a bit of what I was saying." His lip was curled in distaste. "I believe it was something along the lines of, 'Students will sit in the seat that I assign to them: no exceptions'." Harris's glare confused me.

"But… I'm sitting in the right seat," I told him, eyebrows furrowing. "This is where my paper was." I held up my paper to prove my point.

Harris frowned and snatched my paper from my hands. "While that is exceptionally cute, Miss Sinclair, you'll have to excuse me for not finding this funny." I said nothing, because in all honesty, I had no idea what the hell Harris was talking about. "I did not put your paper here. In fact, you aren't supposed to be in the front row at all." _Good, _is what I wanted to say. _I didn't want to sit in the freaking first seat anyway. "_Actually, you aren't even supposed to be in this row. Miss Sinclair, I realize that you've never had me before as a teacher, but I'd like to inform you that though I am sometimes forgetful, I distinctly remember placing you on the _opposite side_ of the room. And though I am sometimes forgetful, I am not stupid." Harris' glare becomes harsher, if possible. "You'll be doing yourself a favor if you learn that now."

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment. No matter what Harris was accusing me of, I hadn't switched seats. He gave me a cold smile and said, "Now if you'll be so kind, I believe Mr. Stilinski would like to sit down sometime today."

My hands shaking, I glanced over at the boy standing behind Mr. Harris. He was tall and lanky, with dark brown hair and wide caramel eyes. His hair, which had probably been stylishly gelled a few minutes before, was sticking up in all directions from where he kept grabbing fistfuls of it, looking at me in distress. He wore a faded red T-shirt, dark-washed jeans, and a new pair of black Converse, but his outfit wasn't what made me stare at him.

It was his name. His name, which I had heard murmured frequently over the past year, was what made me freeze. I had never seen him up close, but I had watched the year unfold from a distance, and I knew that the boy in front of me was linked to the mysterious happenings that had occurred lately. I knew that his best friend was the catalyst for all the chaotic things that had happened in Beacon Hills this past year. I knew Stiles Stilinski was dangerous to associate with. And he was staring right at me.

"Sometime today, Miss Sinclair," Harris sneered. I was tempted to flip him the bird, but I quickly stifled the impulse. Gathering all my stuff and shoving it in my bag, I brushed passed Harris and Stiles without a word. My cheeks were still red; I could feel them burning as I took my rightful seat in the very back of the room. Several students were snickering at me, but I tried my best to ignore them. I had gone a year without incident, and then something like this happened. I glowered at the desk I sat in, hearing every noise, every heartbeat, as I tried to direct my anger elsewhere.

I hadn't tried to switch my seat. I wanted to believe Harris was just being a jerk, but something in my gut told me otherwise. I took a deep, cleansing breath and closed my eyes. Emotions crowded around me, hanging on the tip of my tongue. They were bitter, mostly- no one enjoyed Harris's class. But there was one that was lighter, teasingly sweet. My eyes flew open and I turned in the direction of the emotion, or more accurately, the person who was sitting diagonal to me. He was muscularly built, and he had sandy blond hair and brown eyes that were almost black. His smirk was directed right at me. It was a lazy thing, that smile, and it infuriated me more than Harris's snide comments ever could.

The boy turned back to his desk, and a moment later, he flipped a piece of paper over to me. I caught it in mid-air. _Thought you could use a change of scenery, loser. _Those were the words written across the top. I held my breath and crushed the piece of paper in my hand, then dropped it onto my desk like it contained the plague. I didn't look back at the boy, who the quarter back of the football team, I now realized. Burying my hands under my legs, I tried to control myself. Luckily my hands were out of sight, because instead of having my usual ragged fingernails, they were tipped with sharp, lethal claws.

When the bell rang, I bolted out of Harris's class as quickly as I could. I kept my head ducked low, hiding yet again behind my hair. I wanted nothing more than to disappear at this point. I had wanted that for the past year, ever since I had returned. I knew it wasn't smart for me to linger here, in the place where anyone could recognize me, but as soon as I heard of my sister's death, I didn't really have a choice in the matter. Moving into the small apartment on Jenner Street had been my best bet for avoiding the woods, and though I lived there alone, it was a peaceful sort of place. Sometimes it was hard for me to remember I was in Beacon Hills again. I tried my very best to imagine that I was still living with my adoptive mother Ophelia and her two daughters, Viviane and Tabitha. I tried to imagine that I wasn't living in the town that was the source of all my nightmares.

"Hey!" A voice rose over the din of the hallway. I ignored it and continued walking, my purple floral print dress swishing as I picked up the pace. I was only a few feet away from my locker when the voice shouted, "Hey, wait! Wait up!" I closed my eyes and stopped, wishing that my life didn't suck so badly. Then I turned on heel and faced the grinning boy behind me.

Stiles Stilinski's eyes were bright with amusement, but I could do nothing but frown. "Hiya, seat-stealer," he said, easing up beside me as I began to walk again. I dropped my books on the ground with a thump and began to work the lock to my combination. Stiles stood behind me, unaware that I had bristled uncomfortably at his nickname. Grabbing my AP English book, I closed my locker with a slam.

"I didn't take your seat," I told him, my voice strained. I wasn't in the mood to be teased, especially after the incident in Harris's class. I had almost lost it in there, and that scared me. It had been a long time since anger had got the better of me.

Stiles was seemingly unperturbed by my foul mood. "Oh, I know you didn't. Harris is just a dick, that's all."

I stared at him in surprise. I gripped my books tighter and asked, my voice small, "So you don't think I moved desks?"

The Stilinski boy gave me a funny look. "Nah. Besides, who the hell wants to sit in the front of the class? It's not my first pick, but Harris hates me, so there ya go." He leaned up against the lockers and gave me a long look. "I'm Stiles, by the way," he told me. I figured it would be creepy to tell him I already knew who he was, so I just nodded. When I didn't offer my name, he raised his eyebrows. "And you are…?" he prompted.

I sighed and readjusted my books. "About to be late," I said, stepping around him. He gave me that goofy grin of his and scoffed, "If you're going to Ms. Anders room, she doesn't take role until halfway through class. You've got some time."

His eyes were bright, almost pleading, so I said grudgingly, "My name is Seraphina. Seraphina… Sinclair." My adoptive mother's last name didn't feel right on my lips, but I couldn't murmur my real last. Especially not to this boy, who already knew secrets that endangered his life daily.

For someone who knew so much, Stiles seemed curiously lighthearted. I brushed that thought away when he replied, "That's a cool name. It's probably derived from seraphim, you know." His face turned pink as I gazed at him in confusion. "You know, the other word for angel? Ah, never mind." I shook my head and pushed a lock of dark hair behind my ear.

"Listen, this has been nice and all, but I really have to get to class…"

Stiles stepped in front of me, blocking my path. I stared up at him in frustration. "Hold on a sec- are you new here?"

"No," I replied bluntly, annoyance laced in my answer. I didn't understand why he was so interested in me. Our seats had been switched in Chemistry II. It wasn't like we were friends or anything. I felt a pang in my chest as I imagined what it would be like to have this smiling, goofy boy as a friend. As quickly as the thought appeared, I dismissed it. Having friends wasn't possible for me. I wouldn't bring them into the mess that was my life, or at least, had been my life at one time. Stiles was tempting, though- he already knew things about my world. But, I reminded myself fiercely, he was connected to the one person that could reveal my true identity. And I couldn't have that.

"You're not new here? I've never seen you before." Stiles face was scrunched up in confusion.

"I tend to keep to myself. I moved here last year," I replied tartly.

Stiles nodded as if that made perfect sense. "Huh. Well, you're welcome to sit with my friends and I at lunch, if you want to. We, uh, kinda keep to ourselves, too."

I nearly burst into laughter when he said that. I couldn't imagine Stiles or any of his friends keeping to themselves, especially now that they associated with werewolves… That thought made everything in my mind close down. It had taken me forever to say that word again, and sometimes it slipped into my thoughts when I least expected it. Even though I was a werewolf, the word gave a whole new meaning to the thing I was trying to hide. After successfully masking my scent from all the others, I didn't want _one stupid word _to ruin the defense Ophelia had worked so hard to help me create.

Stiles must have sensed my tension, because he back pedaled quickly: "I'm not saying you have to or anything. I was just offering because I didn't know if you sat by yourself or…" He trailed off, wincing. "Not that I think that you're alone all the time or something! I just meant-"

"Thanks for the offer," I said, cutting off Stiles' rambling. "I'll keep it in mind." And without a second glance, I swept into Ms. Anders classroom, leaving Stiles standing alone in the hallway as the tardy bell trilled. I felt the sharp taste of his disappointment on my tongue as I sat down.

It killed me to be so harsh to him when he was being nothing but nice, but I couldn't let him, or any one of his friends, for that matter, get clos to me. Scott McCall's pack was already in enough danger as it was, if the rumors I'd been hearing were true. The Alpha pack was lurking in the shadows, but I knew that they were waiting for a perfect moment to strike. And I knew that if I got pulled into this mess, they wouldn't just use me against Scott- they would use me against my brother.

I had to remain in solitude.

I flipped open my AP book as Ms. Anders had instructed, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a vaguely familiar face. My eyes locked on the girl immediately, and I could feel my pulse quicken. Like Stiles, I had only seen the girl from a distance, but I knew almost every contour of her face- the strong jaw, the pale skin, the thin lips and small nose. It matched another face, a face that I saw almost every night in my nightmares. The only difference was the girl's hair and eye color, but it didn't matter. It felt like I was staring at a ghost. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to look at Allison Argent a second longer than I had to.

Shivers ran up my spine as screams from the past echoed through my head. The niece of my family's murderer was sitting right beside of me.


	3. Chapter 2

**Hi! First off, I would like to thoroughly apologize for how long it's been since I updated. School's been kicking my ass lately, but luckily I have less than a month left! Woohoo! Do you know what else happens in less than a month? Teen Wolf comes back on! I'm sooo incredibly excited for season 3, even though Colton Haynes (Jackson) and Gage Golightly (Erica) won't be returning. Anyway, I've decided that at the beginning of each chapter from here on out, I'm going give song lyrics or quotes that I feel would appropriately match the chapter. I hope you like it. Oh, and also, thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and commented of this story! I'm incredibly grateful for your feedback; it makes me feel good about my writing. ****J A big hug to all of you! (I do not own Teen Wolf, by the way. If I did, I would make Stiles marry me. ;0)**

_I tear myself open, I sew myself shut_

_My weakness is that I care too much;_

_And our scars remind us that the past is real-_

_I tear myself open just to feel._

_-Scars, by Papa Roach_

Chapter 2: Scars

Lunch was hell. I was beginning to think that I must have been someone really awful in a past life-a serial killer, maybe- because karma seemed, as always, like it was out to get me.

After I left Ms. Anders' room, I headed straight for my locker, grabbed my lunch box, and hustled to the cafeteria. I didn't want to risk Stiles seeing me- I knew he would only ask questions that I didn't want to answer. I ducked into the cafeteria, determined to be invisible. I had been fine last year; no one had bothered me, save a few kind girls who had tried to befriend me on my first day. Now it seemed like a had a giant sign pinned on my forehead that said: "Hey, look at me! I'm a freak, everybody!" Sighing, I let my chocolate waves fall in front of my face like I always did, blocking out the world. The only problem with letting my hair hang in front of eyes was that I couldn't actually _see _the world I was blocking.

That's probably the reason why I ran straight into a solid object in front of me. I nearly fell over from the force of the collision, stumbling into the nearest lunch table to break my fall. There were several loud protests as milk cartons and water bottles tipped over, spilling their contents all over their respective owners. I stared, wide-eyed, at the person I had run into. My heart immediately sank when I caught a glimpse of her sleek black hair, icy blue eyes, and upturned nose. The girl's tray of spaghetti was splattered all over her.

I honestly wasn't even surprised, just morally mortified. I bit back a groan; the girl I had trampled was Danae Welsh, lead singer of the show choir and highly acclaimed member of the dance team. She was a senior in every way that mattered- which is to say- in being an upperclassman and being better and more popular than all of her peers. And though she put on a façade for the teachers, Danae was viciously mean to anyone who got in her way. Unfortunately, I was her latest victim.

She stared down at her ruined designer clothes in disbelief, her Coach bag falling to the floor with a _thunk._ The finality of the sound made me gulp. I was not afraid of this human girl- she was weak and petty, and I could easily tear her throat out if I wanted to.

I _was_ afraid, however, of the attention our little incident was receiving.

A hushed silence had fallen over the cafeteria. All eyes were trained on us; I could feel my face light up like a Christmas tree. Danae's head snapped up, and her eyes were cold and furious. "You bitch!" she hissed, taking a step closer to me. "Look at what you did! Do you know how much this outfit cost me?!"

I couldn't find my voice for a moment. Then I said weakly, "I'm sorry. It was an accident." I could taste the girl's rage, and irony tang, so clearly that it blocked out my own anger.

Danae gave a sharp laugh, flipping her dark hair out of the way as she advanced. "Oh, an accident," she said, giving another slightly crazy giggle. I glanced around, wondering where the hell the teachers were. A sea of faces stared back at me, most open-mouthed and laughing. I wanted to pinch myself and wake up from this nightmare. Danae was far from done, though. "Like it's an accident that you're alive, you little whore?"

I felt all the air leave my lungs. Panic and shame filled me. The words Danae had spat were meant to sting, and they did, but for a whole different reason than she had intended. Danae had suggested that I should have never been born, but to me, her words meant something else: _Why did you survive when everyone else died that day?_ I flinched at the very thought.

Danae saw my discomfort and decided to use it to her advantage. She smirked and took her apple juice, the only thing that she was still holding, and dumped it down the front of my dress. I gasped as the cold liquid seeped through the fabric and began to puddle on the floor. "Ooh, sorry," Danae sneered in a high pitched, mocking voice. "It was an _accident."_ Humiliation made tears spring into my eyes. Everyone in the cafeteria was laughing now, watching the freak in her juice-soaked dress try to keep from crying. I couldn't take it; I turned around and ran for the nearest door, pushing my way out of the prison.

The tears came as soon as I stepped into the hallway. They sluiced down my cheeks in torrents, making my mascara and eyeliner run down my face. I took deep, shuddering breaths, but I couldn't stop the choking sobs that made my shoulders shake uncontrollably. I miserably stumbled down the deserted hall, thankful that there was no one around. For the first time in a while, I felt utterly helpless. I tried too hard to be nice, to remain polite and unseen. All I had wanted was to find a place that could be relatively safe for me in this town. I squeezed my arms around my torso and sank to the floor with my back up against the cobalt blue lockers.

I had just wanted to keep an eye on my older brother. After Laura's death, I had made the decision to come back to Beacon Hills. It wasn't a very smart choice; at the time, Kate was still running amok. Now that she was dead, things should have been a lot easier. But Chris Argent and his daughter still lived here, and before the summer had started, I had picked up strange new scents- those of multiple alphas. The idea of an alpha pack being on the loose was alarming, what with all that had happened in the last year. After the Kanima incident, the inhabitants of Beacon Hills had been extremely wary, none more so than the werewolf population. Derek and Scott already had enough on their shoulders- I couldn't bear the thought of coming in and flipping their world upside down again. Being a shadow was easier and safer for everyone. I glanced down at my ruined dress and sniffled._ Well, for everyone except for me, _I thought to myself.

Sometimes I wanted nothing more than to be a human- I would trade all of my abilities just to have a day to be normal. To have a day where I didn't have to worry about Hunters tracking me or stress about blocking my scent from the other wolves in the area. Ophelia had taught me a Masking charm when I told her that I was going back home, but she had warned me that it might fade if I became too emotionally stressed.

I was having a hard time keeping the magical barriers up now; the spell was feeble at best. I gave a miserable sigh and tilted my head back to look at the ceiling.

"Seraphina…?"

I jerked like I had been electrocuted when I heard my name. My eyes fell on the speaker. Stiles was standing a few feet away, looking tentative and a bit angry. "I heard about what happened in there. I had no idea Danae could be that big of a bitch, but she really won herself a gold medal today." I said nothing. Stiles watched me carefully. I couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his gaze. I knew my face was a mess, but I still tried to hastily wipe tears away as they fell. Stiles eased up beside of me, cautious and anxious all at once. His emotions hit me hard- I felt myself gasping at the overload of feeling. Stiles winced when he saw my wet dress sticking to my frail frame. "Oh, man, she really did get you, huh?"

I glared at him, anger suddenly flaring. "Of course she did! Or did you miss the part where she dumped every ounce of juice she had on me?"

Stiles gave me a sheepish look. "Uh…actually, I sorta did. I was in the bathroom when Danae went into full-on Barbie-bitch attack mode."

I was speechless. Stiles' words made a laugh bubble up out of me, my anger momentarily forgotten. The laugh was a hysterical little thing, so pitiful that it could have been counted as a sob, but I hadn't laughed in so long that it didn't really matter. What mattered was that there was a boy talking to me, and he was kind and funny and a little bit odd. He cared enough to heck on me, even though we had just met a few hours before and I had been less than friendly at the time.

Stiles squatted down in front of me, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. It seemed out of place on his normally grinning face. His caramel eyes were warm and sympathetic. "You can't wear that the rest of the day," he told me, nodding to my sticky dress.

My eyebrows furrowed, and I instantly tensed again. "What do you mean, I can't wear this the rest of the day? It's not like I brought any extra clothes with me." I scowled.

Stiles sighed, running a restless hand through his dark hair. "I'm just saying, you shouldn't walk around sticky the rest of the day. If you want, you could just go home and change…"

"No!" I exclaimed. Stiles stared at me, alarmed. I cleared my throat and said, much more quietly, "No, I don't think so. That would be like letting her win."

Stiles nodded like he completely understood where I was coming from. "Okay." He hesitated for a moment, and then said in a rush: "Whatifyoucouldwearsomethingelse?"

"What?" My voice was still hoarse from crying.

"What if you could wear something else?" he asked, a bit more slowly.

I gave him a wary look. "Like what?"

Stiles' face flushed. "Well. Uh. I play on the school lacrosse team, y'know, and we have a locker room…" I stared at him, not sure where this was going. "I have a locker in there, and I keep extra clothes in there in case we have practice or something… And you can borrow them, if you want to," he ended in a rush. Halfway through Stiles' babble, I realized what her was suggesting. I probably should have been embarrassed, but I didn't even argue or make an excuse. I didn't even try to hide how relieved I was.

Instead, I pushed myself to my feet and began to walk down the hallway. I paused outside of the boys' locker room and turned back to look at Stiles. He was still on his knees by my locker, staring at me in stunned silence. I tapped my foot in mock annoyance. "C'mon. You have to show me which one is yours." Stiles scrambled to his feet and gave me a smirk as he approached.

Then he swept into a bow. "After you, milady."

I rolled my eyes and stifled a laugh. Something about Stiles made me wat to constantly smile but I fought the urge. Though Stiles let me enter first, he led the way when we stepped into the room. The smell of sweat and dust assaulted my nose almost immediately. I made an awful face and sneezed, trying to dispel the disgusting scent.

Stiles wandered to the back, gazing at locker numbers as he passed. When he came to his, he flung it open and began to rummage around, searching aimlessly. I walked over to one of the dirty mirrors and gazed into it while I waited. My face was just as bad as I feared; I winced as I took in my makeup smeared cheeks and bloodshot green eyes. "Shit," I muttered, ripping a paper towel from the roll and scrubbing my face with it. After I wiped my face clean, I turned to look at Stiles.

He had a T-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts in his outstretched hands. I gave him a tentative but grateful smile. "Thank you," I told him, eagerly taking the outfit. I set the shorts on a nearby bench and unzipped my dress in a hurry, relieved to be shedding the sticky fabric. I slipped the straps off my shoulders unthinkingly, and I was about to pull the whole dress down when I realized in complete horror, that Stiles was still standing beside of me. I had been so distracted that I hadn't even thought to make him leave the room, or even to warn him that I was about to strip down.

Shocked, our eyes met. I immediately covered my chest with my arms, now fully aware that I was standing half-naked in front of a boy I had just met, wearing nothing but a lacy black bra to cover me. My pale skin seemed to flare red. I was mortified at myself.

Stiles was trying not to look at me, bless his heart, but he _was_ a teenage boy, and I was a teenage girl who had practically bared myself to him. His mouth was hanging open, and his golden-brown eyes had an interesting glazed look to them. I knew when he saw my scar- his roving eyes faltered and his mouth snapped shut.

It was an ugly, puckered thing, my scar, colored white by age and stretching up my left side from my hip to just under my first rib. Six years hadn't done much to help its case, but I had wanted it that way. I had refused to let the burn heal the night of the fire, forcing myself to go through the agony of letting it heal naturally. It seemed like an appropriate punishment, and an even better reminder. My scar was proof that I had survived something terrible, but it also reminded me that my survival was nothing compared to the deaths of the ones I loved. It reminded me that I was only mortal, no matter what abilities I had or what happened to me o the full moon.. It reminded me that my family's death was something that I could never, ever forget.

Stiles' reaction to my scar was what snapped me out of my thoughts. "Well, turn around!" I exclaimed, my voice rising an octave.

Stiles did as I asked, muttering an embarrassed apology under his breath. I would have been angry at him if the tips of his ears hadn't flushed adorably red, or if he hadn't covered his eyes with both hands, oddly resembling a child playing hide-and-seek. There was a warm feeling in my stomach as I breathed in Stiles' emotions: he was awed by me, and not even the least bit disgusted. Curiosity danced across my tongue; Stiles was wondering about my scar, but he smartly kept his questions to himself. I decided I admired him for that.

I slipped on Stiles' shirt and tugged off my dress the rest of the way, then pulled on the basketball shorts as quickly as I could. I tightened the drawstring, marveling on how good the silky fabric felt against my legs. Stiles' T-shirt was dark gray and had _Beacon Hills Lacrosse_ printed across the front of it, and it reeked of him. Not really in a bad way- it just thoroughly smelled like musk and spice and mint, something that was uniquely Stiles. I held the fabric of it tightly in my hands, unaware of the stupid smile that had slowly formed on my face.

"There." I said loudly, clearing my throat. "You can over your eyes now."

Stiles whirled around, his sheepish smile replaced with a teasing smirk. It amazed me how easily he bounced back from things- embarrassment or sadness were pushed away almost instantly after they appeared. I knew he harbored deeper, darker feelings, but they were harder to reach than surface emotions, tangled in the inner depths of his mind. Stiles' witty exterior, however, was refreshing.

"Well," he said, tapping his chin with a long index finger, his smile only growing, "I think that outfit looks better on you than it ever did on me. I should probably be jealous, but seeing a girl in my clothes is painfully distracting."

I giggled. Then I froze. I didn't _giggle._ Hell, I rarely even _laughed._ What was this boy doing to me? I had only known him a few hours and he had already made me let my guard down, something my adoptive family couldn't do for _years._ Being around Stiles was easy, and it made me feel…free, almost. I wanted more of that feeling, as selfish as that was. I wanted a friend who could make me laugh and let me forget myself, even for just a little while.

So when Stiles said, with a smile that was a little less cocky and a little more sweet: "We have lacrosse practice after school today. If you want to come, I could introduce you to some of my friends," there was a small silence, a pause where I considered. It would be dangerous, and I would risk everything by meeting the rest of Scott's pack. But then I looked at Stiles, who was staring at me with bright, hopeful eyes, and none of that mattered.

"Sure," I said, letting myself give him a warm, genuine smile. "I think I would like that."

I slipped on my sandals and grabbed my dress, heading toward the door. I paused in the doorway, wanting to say something but not able to find the words. I kept walking after a moment-there was nothing I could say to Stiles to express how happy I was that he had befriended me.

I had spent the last year pretending like I didn't exist and watching my back at every turn. I had spent the last _six_ years feeling guilty for my survival and wishing to have my family back. And I had spent my entire lifetime feeling like I didn't belong.

But as I opened my locker and retrieved my books for the end of the day, I couldn't help but think that things were changing, for better or worse. Something in me was waking up, and my scars, mental and physical, were beginning to ache in anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, I could finally be Seraphina Sinclair.

Because being Seraphina Hale just hurt too much.


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello again, my lovely readers. I want to give you a huge hug for continuing to read this story. I know I haven't updated in about two weeks, and I'm sorry, really. I'm doing my best to keep up with Seraphina, but **_**damn**_**, my teachers piled tons of work on me. And I just want to ask- has anyone seen the NEW trailer for Season 3? Because I watched it a total of three times this morning and couldn't get over how epic it was. I mean, it looks like it's going to the best season, maybe better than Season 1 and 2 combined… Anywho, I really liked writing this chapter- I figure that it's a good thing that Stiles can be perceptive and see who Sera really is, and I think it's also good for Stiles to have a more serious, kind of broken side that we don't really get to see that often. And also, I would REALLY appreciate if you would comment. I have a question: should I include Heather- Stiles love interest in Season 3- in this story? She won't have a major role, but there might be Seraphina/ Stiles/ Heather love triangle that could spice things up a bit. ****J**

_The stars shine down from the black_

_And we're picking through broken glass_

_Well, how could we know our lives would be so_

_Full of beautifully broken things._

_-Broken Things, by Dave Matthews Band_

**Chapter 3: Broken Things**

Compared to the measly, ragged football field, the lacrosse field was like an arena. I wrapped my arms around myself as I peered up at the bleachers, nervously debating on where to sit. Luckily, there was plenty of options because it was only a practice, not an actual game. A practice I had stupidly agreed to come watch, even though I had no one to sit with. Again, it was my fault that I had no friends, but I still had an ache in my gut, like someone had scooped out my insides and left me hollow. That's all I was, wasn't I? A hollow, pretty doll with mismatched parts and tangled strings, left discarded because of her grim, forced smile and cold indifference.

I rubbed my arms and walked up the bleachers until I found an inconspicuous spot, then proceeded to plop down. I watched the lacrosse team banter with each other, swinging newly laced sticks and swatting with gloves and jerseys. Their emotions saturated my tongue like I had just gulped down a bottle of syrup- contentedness nearly overwhelmed me. Most of the boys had given up their game and were now lounging on the bottom half of the bleachers, putting on their gear and reliving their summer memories.

I let a brief smile come to my lips when I spotted Stiles and his best friend, Scott McCall, sitting a good distance away from the rest of their teammates. Scott was just as he had been for the past year- tall, tanned, with wavy black hair and cocoa brown eyes, the boy had a lot more going for him than just his lacrosse abilities. Granted, his good looks and athletic skills had been enhanced by werewolfism, but whatever. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees so I could rest my face in my palms. Then I tuned out the background noise and began to eavesdrop on Scott and Stiles' conversation. Scott was waving his hands animatedly, and Stiles was laughing, nearly doubled over. "…and then my mom suggested that I go talk to the girl at the tiki hut, right? The girl making the smoothies? I mean, we were at the beach and all, so I thought, 'why not'? So I walked over to her and we started talking and everything was going good… until I accidentally called her Allison."

Stiles howled with laughter, slapping his best friend on the back. "Oh man," he gasped. "I bet that went over well."

Scott gave a sad laugh and ran his fingers through his thick hair. "Yeah, like a ton of bricks. She probably thought I was some kind of womanizer or something, because her name wasn't even close to Allison- it was Lily." Scott leaned forward on the bench, letting his head drop into his hands. "It doesn't matter," he said miserably. "I can't even talk to other girls without thinking about her, Stiles." He looked up, dark brown eyes full of anguish. "What am I supposed to do?"

Stiles gave Scott a mildly sympathetic look. "Win her back," he said quietly. "That's the only thing you _can _do, man."

Scott groaned, making several boys nearby give him strange looks. "It would help if she would actually talk to me! She comes to every lacrosse event and completely _ignores _me!"

Stiles made a face and rolled his eyes. "That's because ever since Jackson moved, Lydia has been dragging her to any and every thing to do with lacrosse. I think Lydia was going through a withdrawal or something…"

I frowned at that. Jackson Whittemore's departure had caused somewhat of an uproar, from what I had heard. Apparently my older brother was less than thrilled to let a new beta out of the designated territory, but I figured that he got over it quickly when he realized several alphas were roaming the area. Derek wasn't the only distraught one- Lydia had changed drastically after Jackson's move. She was still snotty, but it almost seemed like she was following a script- he heart just wasn't really in it anymore. And apparently over the summer, Lydia had barely ever left Allison's side, too afraid of the knowledge she now carried with her. I couldn't blame the poor girl- finding out your boyfriend was a creature of the night had to be hard for anyone.

It was true that Jackson moving was a shock to everyone, including me, and I didn't even know the guy. He had always been a big part of the school, and without him, something in the air had shifted. But who could blame his parents for wanting to get far, far away from the location where several grisly murders had taken place? Unfortunately for them, they didn't know that Jackson was the source of most of those problems. Their son, former Kanima and now werewolf, had been saved by Lydia's love. But when Jackson's parents told him they were moving, he didn't fight. Surprisingly, he agreed with them. Maybe he didn't want to stay in a place of such horrid memories, or maybe he believed leaving was in Lydia's best interest- I had no way of knowing. I only knew that Jackson Whittemore was gone, and that he wasn't coming back.

I was startled when the bleachers shook. Looking across the aisle, I saw the immunity herself: Lydia Martin. She was wearing a frilly pink skirt with a matching cardigan, a pair of ridiculously high white heels strapped onto her feet and a string of pearls wound snugly around her neck. She flipped her strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder and cast a haughty look around the bleachers. Allison Argent followed, looking slightly weary. She wasn't as dressed up as Lydia- she wore jeans, a simple cream top with a jean jacket layered over it, and a pair of brown ankle-length boots.

The girls sat down a few feet away from me, quietly talking as they watched the boys get ready. Loneliness consumed me for a moment, but it was quickly erased when Stiles came bounding up the steps. He grinned at me, struggling to sit down with all his gear on. "Hey, seat-stealer."

I sighed and shook my head, but I didn't bother to correct him. "What, did you forget my name already?"

Stiles frowned and said, "It's Sophie…right?"

I gaped at him, suddenly feeling indignant.

Stiles saw my expression and burst into laughter. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" He bumped his shoulder against mine, sending tingles up my arm. "I just couldn't pass on an opportunity to mess with you."

I opened my mouth to retort, but another voice cut me off.

"Who are you?"

I glanced over, bewildered. Lydia was standing next to me, a suspicious look on her face.

Allison Argent stood behind her, curiously examining me. I felt overwhelmed, trapped even, but I gave a weak smile and wiggled my fingers in their direction. Interacting with people had never been my strong suit, yet sitting here in front of a Hunter and a demanding human, I felt more out of place than ever before. "Hi," I said, my voice calmer than I expected it to be. "I'm Seraphina."

Allison gave a slow nod. "Oh- yeah. We have AP English together."

Lydia arched a perfectly waxed eyebrow. "_Another_ new girl? God, the immigration population is getting out of control…" Lydia eyed my outfit in distaste. "I'm Lydia Martin, by the way." She paused, and then said as almost an afterthought: "Oh, and this is Allison Argent, my best friend." Allison's dimpled smile was tentative and friendly, but just looking a the girl made me uncomfortable.

Before anyone could say anything else, Scott came up the steps, barely giving the girls and I a second glance. His eyes were locked on Stiles, but I could tell he was trying really hard not to look at Allison. "Stiles, Coach wants us out on the field in five minutes."

Stiles moaned and muttered, "Of course he does…"

Scott finally noticed the strange new person sitting beside his best friend. He immediately bristled; I didn't blame him, but his piercing scrutiny made me more than a little nervous. I took a deep breath and willed my scent to be blocked, chanting the mantra Ophelia taught me so my aura would resemble a human's. Scott relaxed a bit and gave me a crooked smile after a moment. "Hey, I'm Scott." He held out a hand. I barely hesitated, leaning over Stiles to shake it. "Are you new here?" Scott asked, eyebrows furrowing. I could taste his confusion; it was a muddled thing, tasting both sour and sweet at the same time.

I shook my head, but before I could reply, Stiles piped up: "Nah, she's not new. She's just got a good way of hiding from everyone."

I flushed at his words, and then said, "I moved here last year, actually. The week after Allison came, I think." Everyone stared at me in an embarrassed, awkward silence. They felt bad that they hadn't noticed me before, but in all honesty, that fact relieved me. I hadn't ever had any classes with them, so it was understandable that they hadn't even realized I existed. Keeping myself away from the McCall pack had been my goal for quite a while, and now I felt as though I was flaunting my existence to the world.

Scott gave me an odd, thoughtful look. "Ah, okay. I guess that explains why you look so familiar…"

My heart nearly stopped pounding. I wished I could charm away his interest in me like I could charm away my scent, but it wasn't possible. The only thing I could do was hope and pray that Scott didn't suggest that I looked somewhat similar to a broody alpha he knew. My chest tightened at the very thought of Derek finding out that I was here. _Alive._

"Must be," I muttered, directing my gaze elsewhere. I tapped my foot, a nervous habit that I had developed while I was in foster care.

"What brought you to Beacon Hills?" My head snapped up, and I locked eyes with Allison. "Did your parents get a job nearby or something?" Her voice was quiet and polite, almost a little embarrassed by how direct her questions sounded. I processed what she said for a moment.

"No," I answered, throat closing at the mention of my parents. In a flash, I saw my father laughing, his yellow-green eyes full of mirth. My mother's lullabies echoed eerily through my head. "I lived here when I was small." Thee was an uncomfortable pause. "I'm emancipated, actually. I used to live with my adoptive mom but… I decided it was time to come back home."

That wasn't a lie. I had wanted to be closer to my brother, no matter the risk. I had grown up considerably in the past six years, and I wanted to be near Derek after Laura's brutal murder, even if he didn't know I was here. Maybe I was being selfish and trying to console myself with his presence. I wasn't really sure. All I knew was that it was best that I stay out of the way- I believed Derek had finally started to move on from the deaths.

And besides, Laura's death had hit me especially hard, ripping at the very fibers of my being. My older sister had always seemed so invincible, but her death had proved that no one was immortal, not even the beautiful and deadly. I had thought they would be safe if I were gone- I thought Kate would come after me and leave them alone. But in the end, it wasn't the Hunter who had murdered my sister- it was my own blood, a member of my own pack: my uncle Peter. The shock had nearly destroyed me. I was in a murderous rage, but I had to remind myself that I couldn't be seen. Seraphina Hale no longer existed. She was just a memory, a figment of the mind.

And figments of the mind couldn't brutally their uncles, even if they wanted to.

Apparently Stiles didn't like the drawn-out silence I had brought upon myself , so he turned to his friends and said, giving me a look out of the corner of his eye: "Seraphina is going to be sitting with us at lunch tomorrow." There wasn't even time for me to argue, and if I would have attempted to, I would have came off as rude. Another forced smile came to my lips.

"If that's okay with everyone," I added.

Scott and Allison nodded in compliance, and Lydia gave me another once-over and said sweetly, "Oh, that's fine. Allison and I aren't eating at that table anymore."

Allison turned to Lydia, looking surprised. "We're not?"

Lydia shot the Hunter girl a warning look and gave a small shake of her head.

Allison sighed and grumbled, "Nope, apparently not."

Scott's face had fell at the mention of the girls sitting at different tables. I couldn't help but feel bad for the poor boy- break-ups had to be hard, especially if your ex turned out to be a Hunter who could kill you at any given moment.

I was relieved that Scott had excepted me into his circle, but I was a bit mortified that Stiles had broached a subject that was obviously still sore. Babysitting the McCall pack wouldn't be so bad if I could keep my identity secret. Derek would probably be grateful that I was watching them if he knew. _Then again, _I thought sadly, _I don't really know Derek anymore, do I?_

"It's settled then," Stiles announced, slamming his hand down on the bleachers. The sound reverberated, making me grit my teeth to keep from wincing. Obviously, only Scott and I were bothered, because he elbowed Stiles in the ribs and gave him a pained look.

Unfortunately, Stiles had distracted Scott long enough for him to comprehend what I was wearing. "Hey, are those Stiles' gym clothes?" he blurted out.

I was beginning to wonder if my day could get any worse. I was struck speechless, and I could feel my cheeks flame a bright, unattractive red. I cursed my pale skin, which was an unfortunate result of staying inside all summer. If I was my normal tanned self, my blush wouldn't show so easily.

But luckily, Stiles decided to save my ass yet again. "Yeah, they're mine. I let her borrow them after Queen Bitch went nutso on her."

Lydia's emerald green eyes locked on my like laser beams. Her smile was almost predatory. "Ohhh! So you're Apple Juice Girl!" She twirled a strand of hair around her finger as I winced. "Couldn't really see who you were from our table. That's lucky for you, I guess." Lydia's smirk widened. "For a second, I thought you had _voluntarily_ wore that to school." She waved her hand at my outfit like I had found it in a Dumpster.

"Lydia!" Allison hissed. Lydia cocked an eyebrow but said nothing else, seemingly satisfied with her words. Allison sent me an apologetic look, and even Stiles seemed pained. I brushed off Lydia's musings, knowing that her impulsive meanness was nothing that I could change. My lips curled into a secret smile. But maybe it was something that I could _manipulate._

I gave Lydia my best smile, making her blink. "I was just lucky enough that Stiles had something extra for me to change into…" I made sure my grin was at a million watts when I turned it on the boy. "It was just _so_ nice of you to let me borrow this outfit."

Stiles blanched. "Uh… um, it was no problem, really," he told me, golden-brown eyes widening ever so slightly. I could swear I saw his cheeks tinge pink.

Lydia looked back and forth between us, then gave a loud 'Hmph!' and stood up suddenly. "Come on, Allison. We're going to the concession stand." She grabbed the dark haired girl's arm and yanked her down the bleachers, impossibly high heels clicking all the way. I stifled a laugh watching them go.

Scott gave a surprised chuckle. "Wow, way to go! You managed to get Lydia to eat her won words." Scott thumped Stiles on the back. "In fact, my friend, I think Seraphina might have made Lydia_ jealous._" Stiles looked intrigued. "Really? You think she was?" For some reason, his eagerness made a bitter taste well up inside of my mouth. It was rare that I could taste my own emotions.

"Well, did you not see that 'I-will-kill-you-with-my-bare-hands' look she gave me? I'd say that was some form of jealousy," I told him.

Stiles seemed elated. "Awesome." He sighed contentedly and sank back against the warm metal seats. "Maybe I finally have a chance now that Jackass Jackson is gone."

I said nothing, letting my chin rest on an open palm. It was so weird to be sitting here, conversing with a jittery, ADHD human and a love-sick werewolf. My life had changed course in just a matter of hours- I had gone from a quiet loner to a teenage girl who gave relationship advice. Granted, I had never had a serious relationship of my own, but in that moment it didn't matter.

Scott pursed his lips. "Stiles, this summer you said you were going to move on from Lydia. You said you were going to keep all options open."

Stiles has slipped his helmet on, but I could still see his frown. "We both said we were moving on, Scott. But if I get an opportunity, you'd better believe that I'm going to take it." Stiles' knee bounced restlessly as he leaned closer to his best friend. "and you're still hung up on Allison- you even admitted it. Don't tell me you wouldn't get back together with her in a heartbeat if you could."

Scott muttered his assent, making me smirk.

"Bad break-up?" I asked him, pretending to be oblivious.

Scott clenched a fist, pressing his knuckles against his temple. His dark eyes wandered over to where Allison stood at the concession stand and stayed there. "Something like that," he said under his breath.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle blast sounded through the air. Scott cringed, slapping his hands over his ears. I fought the urge to do the same, biting my tongue so hard I tasted blood. Scott was so _obvious_; if I acted the way he did, everyone would know there was something strange about me in a matter of seconds. I gave Stiles an innocent, questioning look, wanting to hear the excuse he came up with. He bit his bottom lip. "Uh, _really_ sensitive ears," he told me lamely, patting Scott's shoulder. Both boys gave me unconvincing smiles.

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. _Oh, boy. Yep they're definitely new at this. They practically scream 'suspicious'…_

"McCall! Stilinski! I don't know if you heard the whistle or not, but last time I checked, it meant get your _asses down on the field!"_ I stared at the wild-haired man that I knew to be Coach Finstock. He looked livid from his spot at the bottom of the bleachers. Scott and Stiles scrambled to their feet, shooting me embarrassed looks as they made their way toward their snickering teammates. Stiles glanced back last second.

"Hey, Seraphina, I didn't even ask- do you have a ride home?"

I stared at him in surprise. "Oh, I usually just walk."

Stiles stared at me like I had just admitted that I enjoyed streaking through playgrounds. "Walk? But it'll be dark by then!" he yelped.

A giggle forced itself out of mouth. "I'm tougher than I look," I teased. "I'm afraid of the dark, Stiles."

The boy's face had paled considerably. "It's not the dark that you should be afraid of. Didn't you hear about the…"

"Murders?" I provided. My heart hammered in my chest. "Yeah, but didn't the guy who committed those drown or something?"

Stiles looked like he wanted to be sick. "He did," he confirmed, voice hoarse. "but still, I'm giving Scott a ride, and I'd feel much better if you would let me take you home, too." There was an urgency in his voice that made a fire ignite in my stomach. Stiles wanted to protect me, even though we had just met. He felt compelled to look out for people, a quality that made him admirable. I could see why he and Scott were such good friends- they both were protectors, in their own sort of way.

I didn't know everything that had happened to Stiles in this past year, but I could tell the images of Gerard, the Kanima, and werewolves plagued his nightmares as well as his everyday life. There was a haunted look in his eyes just then, a look of a person who had seen too much of this world and who didn't want anyone else to experience what he was experiencing. My heart ached for this boy who smiled, laughed, and pretended like he was alright. I almost wanted to cry- to cry for innocence lost, to cry for all the secrets that shrouded who I really was. I could never tell Stiles that I knew his pain.

But maybe, I could try to lessen the pain for the both of us.

"Sure," I said finally, surprising Stiles and myself. "A ride would be nice. After all," I joked, "someone may mistake me for a homeless person if I decide to walk home like this."

Stiles' eyes were teasing, matching his smirk. "Oh, so now you're saying my clothes resemble a homeless person's?" It amazed me how quickly he was able to shove aside his dark thoughts and feelings.

"Well, the way Lydia was looking at me, I might as well have taken these from a Dumpster."

Stiles' smile fell a bit. "Don't let her get to you. I scavenge in only the finest garbage cans of Beacon Hills."

I laughed. Stiles' sarcasm and jokes made it hard not to. Being around him made me feel at ease, but I had an awful feeling that it wouldn't last if I got too comfortable.

"Don't worry about me- I tend to reflect bitchiness directed at me. The cafeteria incident… it happened to be the exception of the week."

And there it was- that grin again. "Good to know."

Stiles and I jumped as another whistle blast pierced the air. "Stilinksi! What part of 'ass on the field' do you not understand?! I'm not speaking Greek, am I? No? Good! Get down here _now_ before I give you r position to Greenburg!"

Stiles winced and mumbled, "Ah, Coach, not Greenburg…" Then he ran down the metal stairs so he could take his place on the field.

Lydia and Allison narrowly missed him on their way back up the steps, their arms laden with popcorn and huge fountain drinks."

I raised an eyebrow as they settled into their seats beside me. "I didn't think there would concessions during practices. Do they always have them?"

Lydia waved away my question like it was the stupidest thing she had ever heard. "Duh. _Everyone _goes to these practices. It's not like we're the sucky football team or something. And plus, the band geeks have to make money somehow."

I nodded politely, not trusting myself to speak.

"When do they announce who has what position?" Allison asked casually, looking at Lydia out of the corner of her eye.

Lydia pursed her full pink lips. "Sometime soon, I think." She gave Allison a knowing look. "Why? Interested to know if the ex made team captain?"

Color flooded into Allison's pale cheeks, instantly giving her away.

Lydia tilted her chin up, haughty expression trained on her friend. "Finstock won't let him play in an actual game unless he can keep his grades up, you know. But if Jackson were here, _he_ would be team-"

"_If_," Allison said, her voice deathly quiet. I saw something dangerous flash in her normally bright eyes. "_If _Jackson were still here. But he's not."

Lydia didn't answer, but I saw her bottom lip quiver ever so slightly.

"What position does Stiles normally play?" I asked, subtly trying to diffuse the tension.

"Normally, he has a nice spot on the bench. But toward the end of the last season, he did an okay job," Lydia told me, her eyes never leaving the field. Her voice wavered just a bit. Allison's comment about Jackson must have hit her harder than I thought.

"Stiles is pushing for co-captain," Allison informed me with a smile. It was like she hadn't even snapped at Lydia. I couldn't return the gesture. I saw blonde hair and wickedly cunning eyes when I looked at her; I saw Kate giving me smile laced with betrayal.

A shudder ran through the length of my body. "Oh," I croaked weakly, wrapping my arms around myself. "That's pretty awesome."

Allison nodded and offered me some popcorn. I took a handful to be polite, murmuring a quiet thanks. Turning my attention back to the scrimmage, I couldn't help but be surprised to see Stiles agilely slipping through throngs of boys, weaving with impressive skill. Allison said something about Scott helping him practice over the summer, but I barely heard her. I was too mesmerized by Stiles' performance to fully understand what she said. I watched as the Stilinski boy ducked and dived, marveled as he made goal after goal. There was something intriguing about watching him play. Humans were slower than werewolves and didn't have the stamina that we did, but they pushed themselves at times when people like me didn't have to. They had to _work _for what they wanted, and _train _to be better. Stiles was a perfect example of a hard-working, dedicated human.

Even when he passed a second too long, eyes darting up to look at Allison, Lydia, and I sitting in the bleachers. Even when a small, crooked smile found its way to his lips as he watched us stare at him in amazement. Even when he was slammed into the ground, ball stolen after that second-too-long pause.

Even then.

Because Stiles stood for something that made a difference. I had watched the McCall pack from a distance for a year, but only Stiles had really stood out to me. I had wondered what made him different, and now I finally had the answer- it became clear as he forced himself up off the ground, teeth gritted, a determined light in his eyes. He was resilient in a way that put me to shame. Werewolves survived and thrived because we _had_ to; it was in our nature. But humans- Stiles, in particular- survived because something in them, in _him_, wished to be better, _wished_ to survive.

Humans, endured, even when it wasn't easy.

"Thanks for the ride."

I grabbed my bag from the backseat of Stiles' Jeep, pulling it into my lap with ease. After lacrosse practice, Stiles had followed through with his offer, letting both Scott and I jump into the Jeep. "No complaining," he had told me with a grin. "My driving skills are to die for."

Scott had snorted from his spot in the passenger seat. "Nice choice of words, Stiles. Really comforting."

Truthfully, Stiles wasn't a bad driver. He had dropped Scott off at his house without issue, and he had made it to my apartment complex without wrecking into anything, so I took that as a good sign.

"No problem," Stiles said absently, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in front of him. His eyes were locked on my tiny, cheap apartment building. I immediately felt self-conscious- the place was nice enough on the inside, but Ophelia had only given me access to a very small portion of the Hale family fortune. My account should have been closed after my supposed death, but Ophelia had somehow managed to keep a part of the money under my name. I didn't know how; magic had always made me nervous, so I didn't tend to ask Ophelia many questions about it.

"So… emancipated means you live by yourself, right?"

I tensed immediately. I didn't want our conversation to stray into dark, inaccessible territory. I didn't want to lie to Stiles if I didn't actually have to. He had shown me kindness when no one else did, and I owed him for that. But I couldn't talk about my past- it simply wasn't an option. "Yes, I live by myself."

Stiles cleared his throat. "Sorry, I-I wasn't trying to pry or anything. I just thought…" Stiles turned his gaze on me. His caramel eyes softened when he took in my guarded expression and rigid posture. "That just seems so…lonely."

I tightened my grip on my messenger bag. I wanted to snap at him and tell him that it was none of his business, but I didn't. it was like… it was almost as if Stiles could see right through me. Because behind my quiet exterior, a lonely girl was who I was on the inside.

I had always been lonely, even when I was a child. Something about me had set me apart from everyone else, even my family, and it tore at my heart to think that Stiles could read me so easily. I could hide behind lies all I wanted, but some people, like this boy, wouldn't be fooled by any mask.

Tears burned behind my eyes. I hadn't cried for months, but today had been a whirlwind of emotion and I'd had to make an exception. I couldn't even look at Stiles, I was so embarrassed by my weakness. When I finally found my voice, I replied: "It is lonely. But some things can't be changed. And no matter what I want to believe, Beacon hills will always be my home."

I pushed open the door, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Thanks again for the ride. Goodbye, Stiles." I gathered my dark hair in my hands and ran my fingers through the knotted curls. Before I could jump out of the Jeep, Stiles' hand latched onto my arm. My green eyes widened, and I looked over at him. This close, I could see the hazel flecks in his eyes, the freckles on his neck and face, the pulse pumping rapidly in his throat.

Stiles sympathy tasted rich in my mouth.

He looked at me, _really_ looked at me. His expression was serious once again. Where was the joking boy I had met this morning? This Stiles was… unnerving. "Being lonely… it can break you, Sera. That's how I felt after- after my mom died, but I had Scott to keep me together. Just… don't let it pull you under, okay? You can hang out with us. You don't have to be alone."

I bit m lip and closed my eyes for a second. Stiles' words were disorienting- he had called me Sera, Derek's nickname for me when I was little. And he had offered to be my friend, even though I was awkward and shy and sometimes brutally blunt.

Stiles withdrew his hand from my arm when my eyes opened. What an odd, beautifully broken thing this boy was. Odd and broken enough to care about someone like me. "Thank you," I breathed," my words softened by his kindness. I eased myself out of the Jeep and gave Stiles a tiny smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Stiles."

Shutting the door carefully, I turned and began to make my way to the apartment building. The late August air was warm and thick against my skin, and full of noises. Stiles' words and his scent of him on the clothes I was wearing distracted me from noticing anything else about the night.

That is, until out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shape behind me.

I whirled around, my eyes flashing their familiar gold in the darkness. The shadow darted behind the dense cover of the trees before I could properly decipher what it was. I cursed under my breath, trying to keep my heart rate down so I wouldn't shift. Another wolf was nearby, maybe even watching me.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to turn on heel and march up the stairs to my apartment. I could barely control my urge to shift- shivers wracked my body from the effort. Curiosity finally made me give up staying inside; I wandered out onto my balcony, eyes scanning the ground below me. There was nothing there, but my lips still pulled back from my teeth in a snarl. Something wasn't right. I could feel it deep inside of me.

Feeling daring, I climbed onto the flimsy metal rail that separated my balcony from the ground. I sat on the cool iron, balancing precariously as I tipped my head back. The moon was large and yellow over my head, its light spilling across my face. The almost-fullness of it, paired with the danger that was lurking somewhere in the woods, waiting for me, made my blood sing.


	5. Chapter 4

**Hello, hello. Dear readers, I want to apologize for my lack of updates. Now that school is out, I expect it to be much easier for me to write. Part of the problem is that I hand-write each chapter before I actually type it, which is time consuming. This update, however, took a little bit longer because of one specific reason-I couldn't figure out how to begin the chapter. I went through FOUR different scenarios before I finally settled on this one. I also want to apologize for the mistakes in the last chapter- I cringed after I posted it. I was trying to upload it as quickly as possible, so I didn't go back and edit it like I should have. Anyways, I wanted to inform all of you that I will NOT be following the canon story line of Season 3. Many characters and events will be the same, but I'm coming up with my own original plot to go along with Sera. It's going to be a juicy, drama- filled ride from here on out… (Leave reviews or DM me if you're interested in getting a few hints on what's going to happen.) I really appreciate the reviews, follows, and favorites I've received. Keep 'em coming, lovelies. Oh, and by the way, I don't own Teen Wolf or any companies or brand names that I use. I just own my original characters and plot. P.S. SEASON 3 STARTS TOMORROW-SO EXCITED!**

_We are just_

_Misguided ghosts_

_Traveling endlessly_

_The ones we trusted the most_

_Pushed us far away_

_And there's no one road_

_We should not be the same._

_-Misguided Ghosts, by Paramore_

**Chapter 4: The Missing and Misguided**

"_If you don't concentrate, Seraphina, you will never be able to cast properly."_

_I glared at the ground, feeling my nails sharpen into claws out of irritation. "Exactly why do I need to learn how to use magic again?"_

_My adoptive mother let out a deep sigh at my terminology. We were both standing in the lounge of the immaculate Sinclair home, waiting for Viviane and Tabitha to return from school. Instead of letting me go laze around in one of the other several spacious rooms of the house, Ophelia insisted that I practice my casting. Living in a house with Charm-Casters since age twelve, I should have at least mastered the most basic of spells. But four years had done little to improve my abilities, especially since I rarely tried to use them._

_Ophelia was normally patient with me because, being a werewolf, magic wasn't in my blood as strongly as it was in a Charmer's. But eventually, even calm and collected Ophelia became annoyed by my lack of concentration._

"_Sera, do you want to go back to Beacon Hills?" Her voice was quiet. She sat down on the maroon armchair by the fireplace, sinking back into the plush cushion almost immediately. For a moment, my gaze wandered down to the thick Oriental rug under her feet. I could see every stitch. When I looked back up, my stomach plummeted, guilt weighing me down like bricks. Ophelia's bright silver eyes were locked on me, filled with a mixture of kindness and sadness. Her long pale fingers smoothed the creases from her navy-blue business skirt as she waited for my answer._

_But I couldn't find one that would suffice. Ophelia had saved me. That much I knew was true- she had adopted me from Hallowed Ridge Girls' Home, a small, dirty excuse for an orphanage. It had been the place where I had ended up after the fire; the man who found me on his back porch the day after the fire had called the police and hospital as soon as I had awoken. After that, I spent a year moving from foster family to foster family, becoming more volatile every time I was sent back to the girls' home. I lied and told the authorities, the therapists, and the families all the same thing- I didn't remember who I was or what had happened to me. The only piece of information I was able to salvage was my first name: Serie. The lie was easy enough to swallow. It was much easier than telling the humans the truth._

_Yet 'amnesia' didn't provide a stable child for most: I was out-of-control and snappish to some foster families, boring and reclusive to others. It wasn't until the week before my thirteenth birthday that Ophelia found me. She was different; I had known that as soon as she and her daughters and walked into the room. Something about their scent had been off- it wasn't entirely human. As it turned out, Ophelia had sensed that I was special as well. Being a Charm-Caster let her determine the race of others around her, but she had stumbled upon me by accident, and had adopted me out of sheer curiosity._

_It had taken her sometime to realize just who I actually was- I wasn't very forthcoming with the information, keeping quiet almost every moment of the day. Things changed after a few months, though. I soon trusted Ophelia enough to reveal that I did, in fact, know who I was and where I had come from. Seraphina Hale was once again ripped from the shadows, and my innocent façade of 'Serie' disappeared._

_Over the past couple of years, Ophelia and her daughters became increasingly close to my heart, and none of them had ever done me wrong. Ophelia treated me with kindness and respect, but also discipline and structure. She treated me like her daughter, and I owed her for that._

_That made me feel awful, because I understood why she was exasperated with me now. I had nearly gone crazy with grief when I found out about Laura's murder, ranting about going home so I could watch after Derek. Ophelia had taken my claim into stride, telling me that I needed to harness and channel my energy if I planned to go back; I would have to perform a Masking charm on myself to hide my werewolf scent._

"_Can't _you_ just cast the spell?" I had asked my adoptive mother, my eyes wide and pleading. Ophelia had grabbed a fistful of her fine, white-blonde hair in frustration. At the time, I hadn't been sure why- it seemed like a perfectly valid question to me._

"_I _could_, Seraphina. But if I do, I can only guarantee that the spell will work for a couple of weeks. It's most effective when the person being charmed performs it on themselves. Besides, I assume you plan to stay for more than a few weeks." _

_I had let out a pitiful moan, but there had been nothing else I could say._

_Now here I was, trying, and failing, to learn the easiest and most basic spell-Transformation._

_Ophelia's bright silver eyes were still trained on me. "Focus all of your energy, Sera. Look at the sand, and if you can't turn it into ash, imagine that there is more of it-_will_ it to be more in quantity._

_My brow furrowed. I gazed at the huge jar resting on the glass-topped coffee table in front of me, nerves making my stomach clench. I walked over to it slowly and then dug my hand down deep in the cool white-brown sand. Picking up a handful, I gritted my teeth and stared at it, picturing it turning dark and sooty, clinging to my skin as it became ash._

_But nothing happened. My concentration broke after I stared at the sand for over five minutes. I wanted to scream. It was useless- I would never be able to return home at the rate I was going! Ophelia didn't seem surprised by my failure. Her face was still very serious, almost stony. "Don't get discouraged, Seraphina. It will only limit the access to your energy."_

_Ophelia said energy, but what I had quickly learned was that 'energy' was a substitute for 'magic'. She only really ever said the word if she was telling me not to use it. "_Magic_," Ophelia had sniffed, "is what fictional beings called witches use, Sera. Charm-Casters don't accept that terminology. There are bad connotations, as you can imagine; people were hunted for decades because they were thought to have been witches. Charmer-Casters refer to our power as energy because, essentially, that is what it is-hidden energy found inside the soul of a being. Of course, some souls are better connected to it than others… Charm-Casters are at the top of the pyramid, werewolves and others shape-shifters are somewhere in the middle, and humans are near the bottom. In all honesty, humans rarely ever can access their energy- the ability has been lost to them after millennia of going unused."_

_The whole entire concept kind of blew my mind, so I hadn't really questioned Ophelia about it any further. I would just do what she said and leave the rest of the magic mojo up to her._

_My fist tightened around the sand, making a majority of it spill out from between my fingers. I stared long and hard at the powdery substance, willing it to become more. I _believed_ that I could make it happen._

_That was all it took. Something inside of me clicked, and then I could feel a tingling sensation spread from my chest down to my fingers. Suddenly, I wasn't holding just a fistful of sand- I cupped my hands together as the pile increased and poured onto the floor right in front of my disbelieving eyes._

_I jerked my head up, gaping at Ophelia in awe. Her eyes didn't change- they remained cool and stern- but I could swear I saw a smile flit across her lips. She folded her hands in her lap and said, "Well done, Seraphina. You did it."_

_I opened my mouth, about to give an excited reply, but before I could speak, the front door slammed open. The gigantic chandelier swung dangerously above my head, its crystalline pieces looking more and more like daggers the longer I stared at them._

"_Girls," Ophelia warned, a sharp edge to her voice. But the daughters barely acknowledged their mother's disapproving look._

_They kicked off their shoes on the mat by the front door and ambled over to us, grins stretched across their pale faces. Viviane and Tabitha were alike in many ways- they both bore a striking resemblance to Ophelia, having the same white-blonde hair and silver-gray eyes. Their joking and care-free personalities nearly mirrored one another. The Sinclair sisters did have their differences, though. Viviane was the quieter and more serious of the two, and she had a pink birthmark in the shape of a star under her right eye. She was the oldest, but only by eleven months. Tabitha was a little more high-strung than her sister; she talked constantly and had an awful habit of cracking bad jokes. Though Tabitha was younger, she was a head taller than Viviane._

_But in all, the girls were one in the same. The Sinclair sisters had become very close to me in the years that I had known them. They often reminded me of _my _siblings, lost forever in an uncontrollable blaze. My chest tightened at the thought, so I swallowed and tried to focus solely on my adoptive family._

_Tabitha was dressed casually, as usual. She wore a T-shirt that read, '__**A lot of things in life may be easy for you… but I'm not one of 'em!'**__ and a pair of lime green gym shorts. Her hair, which she wore long, was pulled up into a messy ponytail._

_Viviane's hair, on the other hand, fell to her shoulders and was cut in choppy layers, giving it more body. Her clothing choice was a little more refined- she had on a pair of cut-off shorts and a silver blazer paired over top of a red lace cami._

_Both girls' wide grins were directed at me._

"_Vivi, did you hear that?" asked Tabitha. The fifteen-year-old bounced on her heels, eyes full of mirth. "Serie-boo used a Transformation spell! She's practically a Charm-Caster now…"_

_Viviane squeezed my shoulder with a smile as she walked by me. She fell on the maroon couch with a content sigh. "I heard, Tabby." Viviane tapped her chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Yeah, Sera could be an honorary Charmer. One with claws and fangs." She bared her teeth at me playfully._

_I showed her actual fangs and then began to laugh. Around Tabitha and Viviane, I could just be myself. It had taken me a while to accept that, but when I did, my life had become at least a little bit easier._

_I sat down beside Viviane on the couch, wrapping my arms around her skinny frame. "Don't tease a wolf, Vivi V."_

_Tabitha was watching the scene in amusement, but I could tell she wasn't okay with staying on the sidelines. The younger girl gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek, sashayed over to where Viviane and I were sitting, and promptly launched herself on top of us. The Sinclair sisters giggled like mad, shrieking as elbows connected with faces and knees connected with stomachs. I grumbled, spluttering out curses as I was nearly smothered to death. But I couldn't hide the wide smile that was slowly stretching across my face. Being with my adoptive sisters lifted the weight of death off my shoulders, at least for a little while. Even though we didn't see each other as often as I would like- they went to public school, while Ophelia had decided to continue my home-schooling- we still had a bond that was unbreakable._

_The scene was light and happy, just as I remembered it. But then, everything changed. Tabitha and Viviane froze, our limbs still entangled. Viviane had frozen mid-laugh; her head was tilted back and her eyes were squeezed shut. Tabitha had been trying to wiggle out from beneath us, but now she stared straight ahead unblinkingly, lips curled into a permanent smirk. It looked like the Charm-Caster girls had turned to stone._

_It took me only a panicked moment to realize that I couldn't move, either. But unlike the Sinclair girls, my eyes were still functioning. I gazed at Ophelia. Instead of suggesting that we go out for dinner, she came over to stand beside of me. It became clear to me then that my memory had somehow veered off course._

_Ophelia's hair floated eerily around her face, as though we were on the moon instead of in the lounge of her home. The Charmer woman knelt down on the mahogany wood floor, reaching out a hand. Her fingers grazed my face. The sadness in her expression made me want to pull away. There was something stronger than the sadness, though- a deep kind of urgency that made my blood run cold._

"_Seraphina," Ophelia breathed. Her voice sounded far away, like she was talking to me from the end of a long tunnel. It definitely wasn't a voice from a memory. "Seraphina, we don't have much time. I'm not supposed to be here, but I had to warn you."_

_**Warn me?**__ I couldn't move my lips to ask the words._

"_Something is about to happen, Sera. Beacon Hills is more dangerous than ever before, and you're about to be in the center of all the chaos. You won't be able to control what is about to happen. I've Seen it."_

_That made my eyes widen. Ophelia's visions were always serious and rare… and almost always had something to do with death. If she had Seen trouble… I was afraid of what that might mean for my already damaged little town and the people that lived here._

_Ophelia withdrew her hand. "Leave while you're still able to, Seraphina." Her bright silver eyes bore into mine. "Your life might very well depend on it."_

_My adoptive mother stood slowly, expression haunted. "This is what I have Seen." Ophelia flicked her wrist. Images flashed through my brain- I saw blood pooling on the ground, faceless bodies piling up in the morgue of a hospital, mouths opened in silent screams… I saw children running through the woods, their faces full of terror as they fled. I saw shapes moving in the darkness, the glow of brilliant red eyes coming from the shadows. I saw a ruined house with a strange insignia painted on the door, a man standing on the charred porch, inexplicably alone. And then I saw a huge crowd of people, all gathered in silence as they looked at something on the ground at their feet. The image flashed closer, and I caught a glimpse of the bloody, mangled body, its eyes staring up at the dark sky, unblinking. The body was mine._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

I woke up screaming. I was drenched in an icy sweat, tangled in my sheets. The visions of blood and death danced vividly in front of my eyes. My stomach roiled sickeningly, and I darted out of bed to keep from retching on the floor.

After emptying the contents of my stomach, I was shaky and weak. I brushed my teeth and decided to run a hot bath, hoping it would sooth my nerves. But Ophelia's warning and the gruesome things that she had shown me were burned into my mind. Her message had been important enough for her to Dream-Walk, which was an incredibly hard skill for a Charmer to learn. It was especially hard to Dream-Walk when the dream you invaded was an actual memory. I didn't understand what my adoptive mother had meant, though.

_What_ was about to happen? What could possibly happen to make those awful visions come true? My face, dead and pale, flashed through my mind yet again. Ophelia had said my life depended on me leaving Beacon Hills again. But how could I leave when I knew what was going to happen to all those innocent people? How could I just run away again?

I shuddered, slipping on a simple T-shirt and shorts. If what I thought was true, the mysterious alpha pack had a role in the horror that I had seen. The sense of dread that filled me didn't feel like it would disappear anytime soon.

After I got dressed, I managed to choke down a granola bar. I just prayed that it would stay down. I glanced around my tiny apartment, noting again how bare it was. The living room had sparse furnishings- a loveseat, a coffee table, and a sad excuse of a T.V. My bedroom was just as desolate… I had only my bed and a small nightstand. There were no trophies or accessories; what little jewelry I had rested on the nightstand along with a couple pictures of Ophelia, Viviane, Tabitha, and I. I had nothing from my life at the Hale house, but I supposed it was better that way. I didn't know if I could live with mementos of the things I had lost.

Though I had a small kitchenette, I didn't possess a table. I ate my meals in my bedroom or on the coffee table in the living room, figuring it would be cheaper that way. The last room of my apartment was my cramped bathroom, which I swore was smaller than my shoe closet. It was wedged behind the front door, so inconspicuous that if you didn't know what it was, you probably _would _have assumed that it was a closet.

Honestly, the size of the apartment didn't really bother me; I was lucky to even have a place to stay. If it weren't for a Ophelia, I would still be living in a foster home or at the run-down orphanage where she had found me.

Being an emancipated seventeen year old wasn't as bad as people might think.

I swallowed. _Well, except for the being constantly alone part. _

I slipped on the cute beige sandals I had bought from the discount store down the road, the place where I purchased almost all of my clothes, and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder. Checking the clock, I heaved a sigh. It was only 7:15. I was extremely early; I still had enough time to put on makeup.

By the looks of things, I really needed it, too. I stared at my reflection, horrified that I had almost walked out of the house looking as I did. My eyes had dark circles underneath of them and my cheeks looked sunken in. I put on mascara and eyeliner, and then proceeded to put concealer under my eyes. Adding a bit of blush to my cheeks, I took a step back, biting my bit as I considered my appearance.

I didn't look too awful now. I dragged brush through my hair, deciding not to pull it up into a ponytail. My dark curls snagged, and I winced. I counted myself blessed to have loose curls; I didn't know what I would do with myself if I had springy ringlets like Libby used to have.

_Libby._ Somehow, my family always found a way to slip into my mind, no matter how hard I tried to barricade them.

I shook my head and headed for the kitchen, my bag bouncing against my hip all the way. Pulling open the refrigerator door, I examined the contents. It was nearly empty, but I had all of the essentials- milk, bread, sandwich meat, eggs, fruit, and, of course… Mountain Dew.

I grabbed a can of the well-loved soda and walked out the door. My walk to school was about a mile away, but I didn't really mind. Walking helped clear my head, and with all that I had witnessed this morning, I thought a clear mind would do me well. The late August warmth clung to my skin until I made my way into the well air-conditioned Beacon Hills High School.

The hallways were full of students laughing and conversing before classes, but I kept my head down out of habit, refusing to make eye contact. I was dreading going to Harris' class, considering the embarrassing seat swap that had taken place yesterday. I told myself that if I tried to be quiet and invisible again, maybe Harris would forget all about me.

There were a few people who snickered at me as I walked by, but I pointedly ignored them. It wasn't until someone slammed into me _hard_ with their shoulder that I about lost it. It took everything in me not to whirl around and let out a snarl with my fangs extended.

I had nearly forgotten- I was Apple Juice Girl now, freak extraordinaire thanks to Danae. The humans sneered, laughing at me. I heard murmurs of, "Freak!", "Gonna pee your pants again, loser?", and "Look, the spaz _can _actually walk straight!" But instead of responding to their jeers, I simply tipped my head up, pushed my hair out of my eyes, and continued on to my locker. They could make fun as much as they wanted, but I wasn't about to let some stick-up-her-ass human ruin my already screwed up life.

I gathered my books at snail speed, distracted by the loud sounds of the hallway. My sensitive ears picked up almost everything, and even after a year of attending a public school, I still hadn't learned how to completely tune out the noise.

Lucky for me, I guess, because the next conversation I heard was an important one. "Are you sure?" The voice was familiar, laced with an undercurrent of worry. I realized after a moment that it was Stiles. "Derek knows for _sure?_"

My brother's name, paired with the urgency in Stiles' voice, made me turn around. Scott and Stiles were standing several yards away from me, not even looking in my direction. I watched them curiously, careful to make it look like I wasn't outright staring. Concentrating, I managed to tune out the rest of the noise in the hallway and zero in on the boys' conversation.

Scott looked distraught. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand across his face, seemingly at loss for words. I could sense his fear; it left a sour taste in my mouth. "Yes, Stiles, Derek's sure. He has been for months, but he thought he would just now inform us- there is a pack of alphas, and they're here. They've _been here._"

Stiles shifted from foot to foot, ADHD evident in his movements. "Why the _hell_ is he just now telling us? Didn't he think it would be important for us to know?" Stiles shook his head, leaning up against the lockers for support. There was a distant helplessness in his eyes. "It's been nearly four months, Scott. And while we went on vacation and thought everything was finally eh okay, Derek has been keeping secrets. Again. The freaking important kind! The _life-threatening kind_-"

Scott looked miserable. "I know. I asked him why he didn't tell us sooner. You know what he said? He told me that they hadn't posed a _problem _yet."

Stiles gave a disbelieving laugh. "Of course he did. Derek wants to wait until the whole damn world falls to pieces at his feet before he even thinks about taking action."

I bristled at Stiles comment about my brother, but I knew what he said was true. Derek wanted to believe everything was alright until it all went terribly wrong- it was his way of coping after the fire, from what I could tell.

"I asked him about Erica and Boyd." Scott's voice had gotten dangerously quiet.

Stiles leaned forward, caramel eyes widening slightly. "And?"

"And he still doesn't know where they are. They've been gone since the end of school, Stiles. There are Missing posters plastered on every street corner, and still no one had found them. Beacon Hills isn't that big of a town…"

Stiles ran his hand through his dark hair. "Do you think- y'know, do you think they're… dead?" The word was barely more than a whisper.

I watched as Scott fidgeted, messing with the straps of his lacrosse bag. "I don't know. Unless they left town, I can't think of any other reasonable answer. But I can tell you one thing- I think the alpha pack has something to do with their disappearances."

Stiles snorted. "Oh, I'd bet money on that one. Since when _isn't_ the supernatural involved in what happens in Beacon Hills?" The boy shifted on balls of his feet, suddenly turning to look Scott straight in the eyes. "Wait, dude. Can't you, like, _sense_ when other wolves are around? Are you saying you didn't _know _other alphas were here?"

Scott gave an exasperated sigh. "Stiles, in case you've forgotten, I'm kinda new at all of this still." He groaned when his best friend didn't stop staring. "But yes, generally I can sense when other wolves are around. It's… different with the alphas, though. I felt like they were nearby, but with them, you can't actually pinpoint an exact location. That's why I didn't say anything a few months ago: I just figured I was picking up on Derek's scent or something. I figured that if there were any more dangerous creatures hanging around, Derek would have told me." Scott glowered at the ground.

I could tell that Scott was annoyed by Derek's lack of trust in him. I didn't blame him for being pissed off. Even when my brother had been a charming jock, he wasn't too keen on letting people in. He had made an exception with Kate, and look where that had gotten us. I bit my lip, trying to fight the sadness that was eating me away.

Stiles rolled his eyes, grinning after a moment. "So your wolfie senses weren't tingling?"

Scott punched him in the shoulder. "Shut up, dude. This is serious."

"I know. I was just trying to lighten the mood. So why did Derek decide to tell you _now?"_

"Huh?" The beta gazed at his friend in confusion, eyebrows furrowing.

Stiles drummed his fingers against the lockers impatiently. "You know. You said that Derek hadn't told you before because it hadn't posed a problem. Well, why did he tell you now? What's the problem?"

Scott's eyes clouded over, and his expression became grim when realization dawned on him. "Isaac's missing. Derek hasn't seen him in over a week."

Stiles smacked his palm against his forehead, eyes horrified. "Oh, _shit._"

"I know. We're going to have to tell Allison and Lydia, maybe even the Hunters-"

I couldn't take it anymore. I slammed my locker door shut, heading as quickly as I could to Chemistry II. My head was spinning with questions, and the leaden feeling in my stomach from earlier in the morning had only increased. This was bad. _This was terrible._ Ophelia's warning rang through my mind. Derek's pack was disappearing one by one. How long would it be before the alphas came after Scott? Or Stiles? Or my _brother_? Would they stop with just the wolves, or would they move on to the humans? What exactly were they after? Those were some of the questions spinning through my head as I pushed my way through the main hallway, ignoring the comments and dirty looks that were thrown at me. Ophelia's prediction was coming true, and unless I did something to stop it, people were going to die. _I _was going to die.

I struggled to keep my breathing steady, knowing an irregular heartbeat would point Scott in my direction. He might have been new at the whole werewolf thing, but he wasn't stupid. I clutched my books tighter to my chest. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't offer my help to Scott and Stiles without revealing what and who I was. I couldn't guarantee that they would trust me after I had lied to them about my identity, either. And Derek? How could I tell him I was alive without throwing his life into chaos yet again? I just wanted to help, but it seemed like the only option I had was to lay low and pretend like I had no idea what was happening.

Somehow, I had to find out what the alphas were up to. Even though Ophelia's vision was still fresh in my mind, I decided that I could not leave Beacon Hills. Whatever was happening, I was a part of it now, and I couldn't abandon my brother and new friends, not to mention hundreds of innocent people, to the wrath of an alpha pack.

I gave a determined nod of my head, vowing to stay and figure out what was going on. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn't even notice someone calling to me until they tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped, slowing to a stop and giving a sigh. It must have been Stiles, wanting me to walk to class with him. I spun around, about to tell him that, if we didn't hurry, we would be late and Harris would roast us alive. But the words died on my lips. My heart nearly thudded to a halt.

It wasn't Stiles behind me, but two boys. Two _identical_ boys. They were tall and extremely built, with bulging arms and chests that strained against their well-fitted shirts. The twins had short dark hair that was gelled in the front, deep-set coppery brown eyes, and strong, square jaws. They were stunning, especially when they both flashed million-watt white smiles.

"Hi," said the boy on the left. His smile was tricky-it looked almost genuine, but there was something hidden underneath of it. He was dressed similarly to his brother, but instead of wearing sports brands, he settled on more mature clothing like the plaid button down shirt and straight-legged jeans he was wearing. "I'm Ethan," he told me. "Ethan Devereaux. This is my brother, Aiden."

He jerked a thumb to the identical boy standing to the right of me. Aiden wore a Nike shirt and a pair of frayed, washed out jeans, and his smile was even more dangerous than Ethan's. It was almost cruel, the way his lips twisted up into a smirk. Aiden ran his eyes up and down the length of my body, then slowly met my gaze. "Heya, babe."

"Aiden," Ethan said, his words holding unspoken warning. I could almost hear the growl in his voice as his expression clouded over. But when Ethan looked back at me, his cheery smile was still in place. "Sorry. We're new here, and we were just wondering… Could you show us how to get to Ms. Blake's English room?"

I stared at the two boys, my lips parting, but I couldn't find any words. It wasn't because the twins were undeniably gorgeous, or because they had caught me completely off guard. No-it was because something in me had screamed out in protest when they had come near, an instinct that made my blood turn to ice in my veins. The Devereaux twins were still smiling at me, but I could see the sinister looks in their eyes, and I knew that Ophelia had been right, so very, very right. Something terrible was about to happen in Beacon Hills. Because the boys standing in front of me, staring at me like I was their next meal- they weren't just dangerous.

Ethan and Aiden were alphas.


	6. Chapter 5

**So… after officially freaking out and blowing up everyone's Twitter feed, I watched the season premiere of Teen Wolf. It was amazing, to say the least, and I couldn't be more pleased with the first episode. Did you guys happen to see the Missing posters of both Erica and Boyd? I felt totally psychic because I had no way of knowing those would be there. Scott's dilemma with the tattoo made me laugh, and I about died when Stiles fainted. So anyways, I loved it, and I can't wait for tomorrow's episode. I'm going to include certain incidents from this season in my story, but other things might be left out if they don't play a big role. And by the way, I want to apologize to you guys for the lack of Stiles x Seraphina feels in this chapter. (becca1130 pointed it out, and I totally agree). I had to include Sera's connection to the Sinclair family and the Charm-Caster community, and also give somewhat of a back story to the boys finding out about the alpha pack. I left you with a cliffy, but never fear: this chapter will be FULL of Stilaphina (shipping name!) action. PM me if you want any hints on what's about to go down- because it's going to be BIG. ****J**

_Come close and_

_Then even closer_

_We bring it in but_

_We go no further_

_We're separate;_

_Two ghosts in one mirror-_

_No nearer._

_- Say When, by The Fray_

**Chapter 5: A Pool of Memories**

Fear nearly made my heart stop, my lungs collapse, and my blood freeze. My vision swam as I gazed at the two alphas in front of me. I wanted to run-to run and never look back. The world seemed to tilt at an odd angle, and my head buzzed with a terror that I had never felt before.

Those were all of the things I was hiding as I stared at Ethan and Aiden. Werewolves could sense fear-practically smell it-just like real wolves could. I managed to block my panic, though, by chanting another one of Ophelia's charms in my mind. There were two different kinds of Masking spells-one to hide identity, and another to distort emotions.

Aiden and Ethan were still watching me, a sickly dark curiosity burning I their eyes, but they didn't seem suspicious of me. I had made my emotions resemble anxiety rather than shock-induced panic. I would let them think their presence left me nervous and awe-filled, not terrified.

I attempted to stop my hands from shaking, but I figured it added to the created affect, so I let it go. A plastic smile formed on my lips, a little bemused and embarrassed. Inside, I was shrieking, but the twins didn't know that. I let the spell consume my thoughts, not wanting to risk failing. "Oh, sorry! I didn't know you were calling to me-I was too caught up daydreaming." My voice was a little breathy, but overall convincing. "Ms. Blake's room is just-"

"Hey, Seraphina! I was looking for you. C'mon, if we're late for class, Harris will chew our asses out for sure…"

Stiles sidled up beside me in a second, easygoing grin slipping when he caught sight of who I was talking to. Something shifted in his eyes, but his expression remained neutral. "Oh, uh… hey?"

The twins sized Stiles up, possibly calculating how long it would take to rip his throat out. Their smugness was like trying to swallow dirt-gritty and thick. I wanted to growl. I couldn't let anything happen to Stiles, though, so I played cheery Sera once more.

"Hey. I was just telling Ethan and Aiden where Ms. Blake's classroom is, Stiles; they're new here." I wound a long strand of hair around my finger and nodded to a class a few feet away from us. "That's actually it over there, boys."

Aiden smiled again, but it was more of a snarl, in my opinion- his lips were pulled back too far from his teeth to be friendly. "Thanks, babe." He came dangerously close, his chest brushing my shoulder. His lips nearly grazed my ear when he whispered: "See you around."

I shivered, and then he was gone. Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, feigning a sheepish look. "Sorry about my brother. He's a little… overbearing at times." Ethan's innocent act would have almost convinced me if I hadn't tasted his pleasure when he watched me squirm.

I faked a laugh, my green eyes boring into his coppery ones. "No problem. We all have weaknesses." There was an edge to my words, but I gave another laugh to cover it up. Stiles was staring at the two of us in confusion, but he must have picked up on the tension in the air, because he leaned in until his shoulder was pressed against mine gently. His touch made it hard from me to focus on the spell I was silently reciting, but it also made relief well up inside of me. Turning to look at Stiles, I asked, my voice still falsely upbeat: "Where's Scott at?" Out of the corner of my eye I swore I saw Ethan's eyes flash red. _That's what I thought. He knows exactly who Scott is. But is it Scott he's after?_

Stiles seemed disappointed, for whatever reason. "Oh. He already went to class, I think. You know, second day of school and all. Don't want to get on your teacher's bad side."

_I already failed at that one, _I thought, bemused.

"Understandable." My hands were still shaking when I looked at Ethan again. "Well, it was nice meeting you, but we really have to be going." I didn't even give the alpha time to reply-I just grabbed Stiles arm and started to drag him in the direction of Harris' class. When I was positive we were far enough away, I dropped Stiles' arm and leaned against the closest wall, breath coming out of me in a deep whoosh. Stiles watched me, seemingly concerned.

"Seraphina? What's wrong?" I placed my hand on my forehead and gazed up a the ceiling. My panic was receding, but the horror that washed over me now wasn't going anywhere. I took a deep breath and looked into Stiles' honey-brown eyes. "Nothing. It's just… those boys surprised me, that's all. They freak me out; I can tell the difference between when someone is being nice and when they're faking sincerity."

Stiles nodded, brow furrowed. "Yeah, I get it. They seemed like creeps-they were practically surrounding you." He pursed his lips into a frown. "If they bother you, just tell me. I'll take care of it."

I couldn't help it-I smiled. "What are you going to do, go all macho man on them?" I pushed off the wall and readjusted my books. "No offense, Stiles, but they're like, twice your size. And there are two of them."_ And they're blood-thirsty alphas, _I added in my head.

Stiles scrunched up his nose, looking highly indignant. "Hey, don't underestimate me. I may not be pumping 'roids, but I'd be decent in a fight." I stifled my laughter. "Okay, maybe not so much," he amended after a moment. "But I have friends in high places."

I snorted, turning to walk to class. "Need some ice for that?"

"Ice? For what?"

I turned back and looked at Stiles, a teasing smirk gracing my lips. Something about the Stilinski boy made me let go of all of my problems, even just for a bit. "For your bruised ego, of course." Then I ducked into Harris' class, smothering laughter.

Stiles followed closely behind me, grinning from ear to ear.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

My first and second classes went by without a hitch, much to my relief. I was getting ready to find the boys for lunch when I heard the wailing of sirens. People were crowded around Ms. Blake's room, some talking in hushed whispers, others yelling shrilly. My heart thumped painfully in my chest as I shoved through the crowd, trying to get a better look. _What is going on?_ Then I skidded to a halt, my mouth falling open in shock.

The door to Ms. Blake's room was hanging ajar, so I had a clear view of the carnage inside. Bodies of birds-crows, to be specific-littered the floor and the desks, and among the bloody carcasses were students. Several of the kids were injured-long gashes covered their faces and arms in criss-crossing marks. I stared at the huge window from which the mass of birds had entered. It, too, was smeared with blood. The grisly scene seemed like something out of a horror movie, not the inside of a high school classroom. Many of the students, wounded and non-wounded alike, were screeching in terror. But some of them were gaping blankly, obviously in shock from the whole ordeal. I had practically just stepped into a nightmare.

Suddenly, I was being shoved aside by not only other students, but the paramedics as well. My mouth went dry as I continued to gawk in disbelief. I spotted Lydia and Allison in a far corner of the room, holding on to each other and looking thoroughly shaken. Allison must have came in here right after AP English so she could comfort Lydia. I didn't blame her; Lydia looked like she was a mess. My eyes searched the room for Stiles; in Harris' class, he had informed me of his schedule, and this was his second class of the day. Weirdly enough, I didn't see Scott, who was also supposed to be in here with Lydia and Stiles at this time. Finally, I caught a glimpse of Stiles in the middle of the chaos, and I let out a sigh of relief. He was standing in the center of the room, his eyes holding a slightly glazed, faraway look. I tried to push my way over to him, but a firm hand grasped my shoulder, pulling me back.

A man with thin brown hair and weary eyes had intercepted me. "Sorry, miss," he said. "I can't let you go in there." I wanted to protest, but after I caught sight of the sheriff's badge pinned to his chest, I merely nodded. Stiles snapped back into focus when he spotted the sheriff standing in the doorway.

"Dad!" he called, voice hoarse. I blinked in surprise. I had completely forgotten that Stiles was the sheriff's son. The list of dangerous qualities about this boy just kept getting longer and longer… I watched as Sheriff Stilinski grabbed his son's shoulder, asking him if he was okay.

Stiles gave a slow, unconvincing nod. "I'm fine. Just a little shaken up, I guess."

The sheriff's concern didn't seem to fade. "Stiles, you can go home. I'll be there later on after I finish up here and file a report at the station." He turned to the remaining kids. "The rest of you are welcome to go home as well. I'll see to it that your absence from class is excused."

Sheriff Stilinski gave Stiles one more pat on the back before he went over to speak with Ms. Blake, who was trying not to break down in hysterics.

Stiles was quiet when he met me in the hallway. He had that haunted, empty look in his eyes again, and it made me want to lean in and hug him. I was afraid of his silence-this Stiles was too much like me for my liking. "Are you alright?" I whispered, reaching out a hand.

Stiles pulled away before I could touch him, giving me the same blank look he had given his father. "I'm fine." I withdrew my hand, stung by his rejection. The boy blinked a couple times and said again, this time with more conviction: "Yeah, I'm fine." He looked at me, still trying to blink the fear from his eyes. "I think I just need to get out of here."

I followed him when he turned away and began walking to his locker. My arms were crossed firmly over my chest. Stiles haphazardly shoved a few books into his backpack and then looked at me. "You don't have to stay here the rest of the day, either, you know."

I delicately raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that I should skip the rest of my classes?" My question echoed down the hall, which had fallen nearly silent.

Stiles shrugged and slung his bag over his shoulder. "That's _exactly_ what I'm suggesting."

I sighed deeply. "I can't just skip, Stiles. I have Algebra II and AP U.S History, and I have no valid reason to be leaving school."

Stiles pulled the keys to his Jeep from his pocket and dangled them in front of my face. "I was _so_ freaked out after the bird incident that I _insisted _that you drive me home." Stiles dropped the overdramatic tone and gave me a pointed look. "There's your excuse, Seraphina. I'll get my dad to write you a note saying so."

I frowned. "You mean…you want me to skip school and-hang out with you?"

Stiles closed his locker and leaned forward. "Is that so hard to believe?"

I shook my head. "Kind of. But… what about Scott? Why aren't you asking him to drive you home?"

Stiles winced. "Scott is taking care of-family business. He left before the bird incident happened."

_More like werewolf business,_ I thought to myself.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "So I'm just your rebound buddy?"

"What? No!" Stiles mouth had fallen open. He fidgeted, averting his eyes. "Scott's my best friend but… sometimes being around him is overwhelming. Like I'm constantly in his shadow. Sometimes, I just want everything to be _normal_ again." The Stilinski boy ran his hands through his hair. There was a look of sheer desperation in his eyes when he turned to meet my gaze. I was taken aback. "I just need to get out of here. To be normal for a couple of hours, at least."

Stiles' words cut me deep. He didn't need to explain to me what he was talking about, because I wasn't supposed to understand anyway. He just wanted someone to listen to him. Frankly, the desperate look that lingered in his eyes scared me. He was broken, but not to the point where the damage was irreversible. Not like _me._ And if I had any say in the matter, I would never let his pain get that far. Stiles' light was something far too precious to be extinguished.

I heaved a disgruntled sigh and held out my hand. "Give me the keys."

Stiles obliged, his eyes momentarily lighting up. Then he whirled away from he, headed to the front doors. He grinned a bit as he opened them, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "Coming?"

He was bathed in the bright glow of noon sunlight, which made his eyes sparkle and his skin take on a honey-golden hue. I paused for only a moment, knowing I couldn't go back now. "Dammit," I mumbled. "I better not get in trouble for this, Stilinski…" I didn't let him see the tiny smile on my face as I passed him.

Stiles gave a chuckle. "You'll be fine. I promise."

I rolled my eyes, walking across the parking lot in huge strides. Stiles' baby blue Jeep was like a beacon in the sunlight, throwing a blinding glare in my direction. I pulled the door open and slid into the driver seat, making myself comfortable. The scent of cologne, fast food, and sweat lingered thickly in the air. I wrinkled my nose: a typical boy. Then I looked down and frowned. Stiles climbed in on the other side, catching my expression and giving me a confused look. "What? Do you not have your license or something?"

Glaring at him, I gave a sniff. "Of course I have my license. I'm seventeen."

Stiles placed both of our bags in the backseat. "Then what's wrong?"

I closed my eyes. "This is a standard."

"And your point is…?"

"I can't drive a _standard_, Stiles. I never learned how to!" I gave a frustrated shake of my head.

Stiles propped his hands behind his head, not looking even slightly worried. "Ah, c'mon. It's easy. Start her up, and I'll just guide you through it. Baby steps."

As it turned out, baby steps consisted of me grinding gears, Stiles moaning about how I was ruining his vehicle, and the Jeep stalling out in the middle of the road…twice. By the time we pulled into the Stilinski's driveway, I was almost ready to jump out and start kissing the ground. "I am never, _ever_ driving a standard again," I informed Stiles, throwing the Jeep into park.

He winced, face drained completely of color. "Good idea. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to replace the transmission now."

I grabbed my messenger bag from the backseat and shrugged. "Hey, you're the one that wanted me to drive."

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess you have a point."

We walked up the sidewalk side by side. I admired the Stilinski house. It wasn't very big-probably three bedrooms at the most-but its wooden exterior had a worn, homey look to it that I liked. The front porch had a few neglected-looking plants and a rickety porch swing, and by the garage there were a few bicycles, a riding lawn mower, and other various tools. I smiled; it seemed like a home worth living in.

But Stiles wasn't heading to the house. He cut across the decent-size lawn, heading toward the back yard. I followed closely on his heels, curious as to where we were going. "What are we doing? Hiking through the woods?" My voice was nervous. With the alphas on the loose, I wasn't really comfortable with waltzing into dangerous territory.

"Nah. Come on, I want to show you something."

Stiles continued walking, pushing into the dense cover of the trees and going out of my sight in a split second. An awful feeling coiled in the pit of my stomach, but I ignored it and caught up with the human boy. We walked a few yards without saying anything, both of us immersed in our own thoughts. Finally, after snagging my shirt on a briar bush and watching Stiles trip over most vegetation, we came to our destination.

There was a little clearing, and in the center of it was a pond. It was a decent size, but its water was a murky green, and lily pads nearly covered the surface. I wrinkled my nose-to Stiles, the pond probably didn't stink that bad, but to me, the scent was putrid. I almost wanted to gag.

Smell aside, though, the place was almost…soothing. I heard the buzzing of insects and other creatures chattering in the nearby woods, and a warm breeze picked my hair up from the nape of my neck and made it flutter around my shoulders. I craned my head back and looked a the sky, which was a bright periwinkle blue and filled with fluffy clouds. It almost seemed as if we were in a different world.

Stiles spread his arms wide, waving his hands with flourish. "Welcome to Narnia."

I raised my eyebrows and asked: "To what?"

Stiles stared at me like I had a few screws loose.

"The Chronicles of Narnia? You know, with the huge talking lion and those four British kids?"

I gave Stiles a blank look.

He laughed. "You've never seen it? It's a kids' movie."

"Sorry," I told him. "Not ringing any bells. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised-I don't normally like movies. I didn't watch T.V. much as a kid, so I don't really care for it now."

Stiles plopped down in the high grass, watching me. I could taste his curiosity before I saw it on his face. "Okay, so if you don't like movies, what _do_ you like?"

I bit my lip and lowered myself into the grass beside of Stiles, crossing my legs one over another. "I like to read. I read quite a lot, actually."

"Hey, if you like to read, you may have heard about the Narnia books, then."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Stiles gave a determined shake of his head, eyes shining. "Nope. They were written by… J.R.R. Lewis? Something like that."

"That's J.R.R. Tolkien, Stiles." I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "And he wrote the Lord of the Rings."

The Stilinski boy flopped onto his back and muttered: "Oh, whatever. Same freakin' difference."

Laughter bubbled out of me. "Whatever you say."

"So," said Stiles after a moment's pause. "What do you think of this place?"

I gazed around again, drinking in the scenery. "It's nice," I said truthfully. "Peaceful."

His dimpled grin widened. "I come here when I want to think. It's pretty calming."

I nodded, feeling the long grass tickle my ankles. "How did you find this place?"

Stiles grin quirked off to the side. "Scott and I were wandering through the woods one day when we were around eight and we stumbled upon it. We used to play here almost every day." His smile became wistful. "It's been a long time since we've come here together, though. Normally it's just me, when I need to get away from the world."

Stiles pushed himself up suddenly, rising to his feet in a matter of seconds. He offered me a hand, and I took it gratefully. Stiles' hand was warm and rough against my own. After I was standing, he released me and ambled over to a huge weeping willow tree a few feet away. He leaned over and picked something up. Turning to look at me, he held up the object in his hands. It was a huge, smooth rock. Painted in the middle of it were two sloppily written names: Stiles and Scott. Underneath the boys' names were tiny handprints.

I pressed my hand to the warm stone, spreading my fingers out to nearly cover both prints. "Wow. You guys must have been really little."

Stiles laughed, caramel eyes twinkling. "Yep. Scott thought it would be a good idea to make something like this. So we stole some of my dad's paint from the garage and created a masterpiece. It's like a time-capsule, only less creative."

I gave a quiet laugh at that, watching as Stiles gently lowered the rock back into the grass. He ran his fingers across the trunk of the weeping willow as he made his way over to the pond. I joined him there, feeling the damp earth squish beneath my sandals. I slipped my shoes off and threw them to the side, not wanting to ruin them.

Stiles raised his eyebrows, amused. "What?" I asked, impatiently batting my hair out of my face. "I don't want to get my shoes dirty."

The boy just shook his head and laughed.

I turned my attention back to the pond, yet again wrinkling my nose at the putrid stench. "Ugh. It's nice that you and Scott used to play here, Stiles, but please tell me that you two never swam in this muck."

Stiles mischievous grin said it all. "Maybe once or twice," he admitted after a second. "We used to get in trouble for it, though. Dad would say we smelled like rotting carcasses and make us spray off outside with the water hose."

I giggled. "I can imagine." I squatted down, warm, mushy mud seeping in between my toes. I picked up a smooth stone and stood. Flipping it over a couple times in my hand, I pulled my arm back and flung it. The rock landed with a solid splash in the water, causing ripples to expand and lap over one another. Disappointed, I picked up another stone, ready to try again.

Stiles smirked, coming to stand behind me. "What are you doing?" he asked, voice full of laughter. I exhaled a breath and looked back at him. His hair was mussed from how many time he had run his fingers through it, and his pale face held an easy, content expression.

Before I could reply, Stiles leaned forward and said in a stage-whisper: "If you're trying to skip stones, you're doing it all wrong, Sera."

His proximity to my face, paired with his use of my old nickname, made my blush. I ducked my head so he wouldn't see the color that had flooded to my cheeks. "Here," Stiles said. "Let me show you." And then from his place behind me, he took my hand in his own. Stiles arms were around me in seconds, and his chest was pressed into my back. His head was at the crook of my neck.

My heart stuttered in my chest as I fought to compose myself. Stiles' heat flooded into me, and his long musician's fingers tightened around my hand gently, positioning the stone so that we were both holding it. I briefly wondered if he could feel how irregular my breathing was, or if he could see how my face went from slightly pink to an intense red. I had never been this close to a boy who wasn't family before, and it made my senses kick into high gear. Stiles' scent, musky and sweet, filled my nose, and is chest moved up and down at a steady rhythm, almost soothingly. I felt myself ease into his unintended embrace.

"See, you were practically chucking it into the water. You need to twist your wrist," Stiles explained, his breath stirring my hair. I shivered. He adjusted our hands until we held the rock at an angle. "And now…" Stiles pulled our arms back, and together we released the stone. It splashed across the green water five times before sinking into the depths of the pond. Stiles whistled. "Wow. Nice throw." I tilted my head back and looked at him. Stiles was still staring at the water, his molten-honey eyes wide with appreciation. I saw the few freckles he had dotting along his neck and jaw, and his impossibly long eyelashes nearly brushed his cheekbones when he finally gazed down at me.

We were inches apart, separated by nothing more than air. Our eyes were locked-brown on green-and for a moment I didn't know who I was or why I didn't lean in just…a little bit…closer…

Then realization slapped me across the face. I was Seraphina Sinclair, formerly known as Seraphina Hale, and I was a werewolf being held in the arms of a _human boy._ A human boy who didn't know who or what I was; a human boy that I had lied to. Stiles was funny, sweet, and just the barest bit annoying, but he didn't know me. He didn't know that I was dangerous to be around, just like any other werewolf. He was already buried too deeply in the mess of secrets and lies surrounding Beacon Hills, and I wasn't about to dig an even deeper grave for him.

I wouldn't let things go any further, if they were even going anywhere to begin with. I untangled myself from the Stilinski boy and took a step back. My head was spinning, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to focus.

I wasn't sure what this feeling was, but it welled up inside of me and spread an ache all throughout my limbs. Horror filled me after a moment. _No, it can't be. I don't actually _like_ him… Do I? _I bit the inside of my cheek. It didn't matter, anyway. Whatever I was feeling wasn't as important as Stiles' safety. Besides, I had only known him for little more than a day. There was no way…

But echoing through my head, I heard the words my mother had murmured many years before: "_Sometimes, Seraphina, we find a person who sees us and accepts us for who we are, totally and completely. They are very rare and special people-they can turn despair into happiness in an instant, and they will listen to your problems and try to understand as best as they can. Some of us search our whole entire lives for a person like that. They can be your best friend, or your one true love, but whatever the case, they're always there when you need them."_

"_What do you do if you find a person like that, Mommy?" I had asked in awe._

"_You never let them go, darling. Never."_

Maybe Stiles was one of those people, and maybe he wasn't. But whatever the case, I wasn't going to let my selfish and confusing feelings get in the way of our newly found friendship. I owed it to Stiles to make being around me as easy as possible-he had kindly befriended me, and I wasn't about to throw that back in his face. Not a chance.

"Where did you learn to skip stones like that?" I questioned, barely missing a beat.

Stiles blinked and shook his head like he had just came up out of water. It took a moment for my question to sink in, but when it did, I wished I hadn't asked it. Stiles eyes dimmed considerably, and his expression was that of a person who was faraway from where they were actually standing. "My mom taught me how," he told me, voice incredibly soft. "During the summer, we would always come here and have picnics." Stiles eyes went to the treetops. "It was just me and Mom, mostly-Dad was usually at work. Sometimes Scott would come, too. And we'd eat and goof off and have stone-skipping contests until we were sure our arms were going to fall off." Stiles gave a half-hearted laugh, eyes now sweeping over the pond. "When I'm here," he whispered, "I feel closest to her." His voice was raw and unsure. I could tell he didn't talk about his mom often…maybe not ever. "I was young when she died." He cleared his throat. "Not even ten. But I can still remember what she was like, the way she laughed…" he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. "Sometimes the memories are so clear that it's almost as if she's still with me."

I reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Stiles' shoulder. His eyes flew open, still blazing with pain. I wanted to hold him close to me, to make his goofy smile return. How could someone so full of life be so full of agony as well?

"I understand," I murmured, surprising Stiles and myself. Before I knew it, words were pouring out of my mouth at their own accord. "My parents-they died when I was eleven. And the pain of it, it lessens over the years, but it never truly goes away. They're always on my mind. Sometimes I wake up and think that they're still there… but I realize I'm alone in an empty house. I realize that they're not coming back." I blinked back tears. "I just try to make sure that my life has meaning, you know? I'm sure that's what they would have wanted. And I bet your mom would have wanted the same thing, Stiles. We can't forget about them; they'll be with us for the rest of our lives. We just…just have to make the most of what we have left."

My words were the bridge between us. Stiles was smiling at me, and suddenly, the empty, broken boy in front of me was no longer there. This was the Stiles that I had first met-the boy who gave me quirky grins and sarcastic remarks.

"Thank you, Seraphina." Stiles' voice is quieter than usual, but his smile is still in place, so I feel like I've accomplished something.

I let my hand fall to my side and gave him a tiny smile. "You're welcome."

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the surface of the pond.

Then I heard it-footsteps. They were coming closer and closer, but I had been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed until just now. I immediately tensed, trying not to show my distress. Stiles heard twigs snapping after I did, but he was quicker to react. He stepped in front of me, one arm out like he was blocking me from danger. I couldn't help but feel flattered by his action, but I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn't inform Stiles that if an alpha wanted to rip our throats out, an arm wouldn't provide much resistance.

We both waited for all hell to break loose. I held my breath as a figure darted into the clearing. When I saw who it was, though, I nearly started laughing.

Scott made his way toward us, but he didn't look like he was in a laughing mood. He had a scowl on his face, but under the anger, I tasted the acrid flavor of fear. Something awful had happened; I was sure of it. "Stiles!" Scott snapped. "What the hell?" He stopped in front of us, eyes going back and forth. There was a bit of confusion when he looked at me, but when his gaze locked on Stiles, I saw that he truly was pissed. "Why haven't you answered any of my phone calls? I started to think that something was wrong…"

Stiles rubbed the side of his face. "Well…I kind of turned my phone off," he told his best friend, cringing slightly.

Scott looked like he wanted to slap Stiles upside the head. "You turned it _off_?! I've been trying to get a hold of you practically all day!"

"Hey, I haven't had the easiest day either, man. Some crazy shit happened in Ms. Blake's class today…"

I looked at Stiles, and then at Scott. Scott's black hair was wind-blown, and his clothes looked a little worse for wear. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "They were trying to get him, Stiles. We took him to Derek's house, but he doesn't…remember things."

I blinked, not understanding. _Him?_ But after a second, it all clicked. _The Lahey boy. The alphas must be after him. But why? And he's at our old house now?_

Stiles eyes looked like they were going to bug right out of his head. "Oh my God."

Scott nodded, turning to leave. "Well, that pretty much sums it up. Come on, Stiles, we have to get back there as soon as possible."

My eyebrows furrowed, and I gave Stiles a fake look of confusion. God, how I hated playing an oblivious little human girl… "Where are you guys going?"

Stiles winced, beginning to follow his best friend. "I-I have to help Scott and, um, his family with some things. His cousin is…sick." He gave me an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry, Sera. I invited you over and I should drive you home, but whatever is going on, Scott made it sound pretty urgent. If you want, though, I could tell him-"

"It's fine," I told him with a wave of my hand. "I don't mind to walk."

Stiles reluctantly shook his head and began to jog off after Scott, shouting: "I'll make it up to you, I promise! I'll see you tomorrow, Sera!"

I grinned. I knew Stiles was bothered that he couldn't drive me home, but it didn't matter to me. I would be anticipating whatever he was going to do to make it up to me.

Besides, after all that we had shared together today, I would have to walk a hundred miles just to get my mind completely clear. A walk to my house would be a piece of cake. I grabbed my messenger bag from the ground and began my long trek back to my apartment.

For some reason, at the moment, I couldn't make myself be worried about the alpha pack or even what was going on with Isaac Lahey. There was a feeling of peace in me that I hadn't experienced in a long time, and it stole away all my negative thoughts.

My lips stretched into a smile as I crossed Stiles' lawn, watching as the Jeep roared down the street. I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head. Those boys thought I was clueless, but it turned out that I knew more than I did. It was ironic, actually. But after everything that I had experienced, I knew for sure now that I needed companionship. There was no way I could be constantly alone, always separating myself, and not go crazy. I would just have to be extremely careful with how I interacted with the McCall pack, and maybe I could form lasting friendships. I remembered Stiles' smile as we had stood by the pond.

Maybe I already had.

My bare, muddy feet slapped against the pavement, and I got a couple stares from passerbys. I carried my shoes in my hands and ignored them. Brilliant sunlight streamed down from the sky, and for a moment, I was content. I couldn't bear to ruin such an interestingly wonderful day with a pessimistic mood.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and fought back laughter.

_Oh no. Stiles is starting to rub off on me…_

**I want at least 3 reviews, please. I know, I know, I'm needy for asking. But I love hearing what you guys think, and I could really use some feedback. J**


	7. Chapter 6

**Well. OH MY GOD, OHMYGOD, OHMIGAD. That was how I felt as I watched the new episode of Teen Wolf. Cora, the mysterious new werewolf chick with the bad attitude-she's Derek's younger sister! What?! WHAT?! Sorry if I'm coming off as really exuberant, but that was MY idea, Teen Wolf writers. So there. I admit I gave a loud gasp when I found out who Cora was, and then I got mad and was like: "HEY, assholes! You totally screwed up my plans!" I forgive them but…grr. Now everything is going to be even MORE complicated! I just wanted to inform you guys that Cora WILL NOT exist in my story because…well, it just wouldn't make any sense for me to include her. And Stiles will not go to Heather's party, so no love triangle for him. I also want to thank my readers for the support this story had been getting. I've seen a lot of AHHHs and GAHHHs in my reviews, and I take that as a good sign. I asked for 3 reviews… and I got 16. Wow, are you guys amazing or what? I just wanted to hug/kiss/maul all of you for how awesome you are! I'm feeling really uncreative now that the Teen Wolf creators stole my mojo, but if you favorite and REVIEW, I might find the will to survive… ( I do not own Teen Wolf, although I want to. Cora would be named Seraphina, and that would be the end of that.) And now, what you all have been waiting for… XD**

_Tell me what you want to hear_

_Something that were like those years_

_I'm sick of all the insincere-_

_So I'm going to give all my secrets away._

_-Secrets, by OneRepublic_

**Chapter 6: Hidden Truths and Uncovered Lies**

By the time lunch rolled around the next day, I made a decision to _not_ be intimidated by whatever harassment I received in the cafeteria. There was no point in it, in all honesty. I wasn't attending Beacon Hills High School for the pleasure of my classmates- I was here for _me._ Their opinions shouldn't be able to touch me.

With that in mind, I did my best to prove that their thoughts meant absolutely nothing to me. I took extra time when I woke up to curl my hair so that my usually wavy tresses framed my face in thick, bouncy ringlets. My makeup had taken me nearly half an hour to complete-I had gone all out, picking darker eye shadow to give me a smoky-eyed look, which made my yellow-green eyes pop, and adding a dark cherry lip gloss that made my full lips more prominent.

My outfit had been a little bit harder to manage. Most of my 'new' clothing was from the second-hand store down the street, so I had to dig deep in my closet to find an outfit from my days with the Sinclairs. After raiding the back, I had found some expensive and impractical items that Tabitha and Viviane had insisted on buying for me. I had settled on a black pair of jeggings, a one-shouldered silk red shirt that cinched in the middle, and a pair of tall crimson wedges with bows on the side. Then I had looked down at the necklace in my hands. It was an oval cut ruby on a silver chain, gorgeous but effectively simple. It was the only item I possessed from my time as a Hale-I had been wearing it when the fire started. But the necklace was still as beautiful as it was the day my aunt Amelia had placed it in my hands. _A lovely trinket for a truly lovely girl._

I hadn't ever agreed with the last part, but as I had fastened the ruby necklace around my neck this morning, I had marveled at how far I had come since I was that little girl. The mirror had showed me a breath-taking young woman decked out in fancy attire, her eyes regal and sultry at the same time. I had blinked numerous times, disbelief flooding through me. This wasn't me-it _couldn't_ be. The outfit was too flashy, too bold, and the girl was far too stunning to share my identity. I had felt different; I had felt like imagined Lydia, Viviane, or Tabitha would feel when they looked at themselves: confident, classy, and desirable. Quiet and shy Seraphina Sinclair had seemingly disappeared.

And that was exactly the point.

I had gotten looks all day, in small doses-girls' lips would part in surprise and then purse in jealousy, boys' mouths and eyes would drop in appreciation, and teachers would stare in outright shock at my much-improved appearance. When I met Stiles at his locker before Harris' class, I thought he was going to have a stroke. He had stared, cleared his throat numerous of times, and muttered under his breath, so low that I wouldn't have been able to hear it if I didn't have werewolf hearing: "_Damn._" I had been thoroughly pleased; it felt good to hold the cards and, for once, know how to play the game.

But the best feeling came when I entered the cafeteria.

There wasn't an immediate response. Conversations continued as I wove my way through the table, but eventually, almost everyone was gawking at me, their voices lowered to disbelieving whispers. I kept my eyes straight ahead and my head up, dark curls bouncing with every step I took. My eyes were trained on Scott and Stiles, who sat conversing at a nearly empty table in the corner of the room. I was almost to them when a voice called out sharply: "Seraphina!"

I froze, eyebrows pulling together, and whirled around to face the speaker.

It was Lydia Martin. She sat at a crowded table a few feet away, basking in all of her strawberry-blonde glory, no doubt. A smile was on her lips, and she beckoned to me with an impatient hand.

I barely even paused before I robotically made my way over to her, even though my head was spinning with confusion. Lydia wanted to talk to me? _Lydia Martin_? She wanted to chat with me even after she had bashed my borrowed outfit during lacrosse practice the other night? _Whatever she wants,_ I thought, _it sure as hell can't be good._

I tried my best to keep an upbeat smile plastered on my face when I stopped in front of her table. "Hi, Lydia," I greeted, nervously pulling at the strap of my purse. "Do you need something?"

Every pair of eyes were on me as Lydia gave a tinkling laugh. "Need something? Only to compliment your outfit! It's stunning." Lydia tossed her glossy, perfectly straightened hair behind her shoulders, her emerald eyes sparkling. "Oh, you _have_ to sit with us, Seraphina. We need to know where you got your amazing clothes!" Lydia's posse fervently murmured their agreement.

I gazed around in distress, not spotting any open seats, or better yet, an excuse to escape. "Um-"

Lydia turned to the brunette girl beside her. The girl was almost pixie-like, she was so tiny. "You're done with your food, right, Jill? Seraphina needs somewhere to sit."

Jill looked at me and then at the half-eaten burger in her hands. "Well-" she began, eyes wide.

"Perfect, thanks! You're such a sweetheart," Lydia interrupted, smile never wavering.

Allison, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table, gave a moan and dropped her head into her hands, clearly mortified by her friend's actions. Tiny Jill scooped up her tray and scurried off, looking like she was on the verge of tears.

I was so shocked that I didn't even say anything as I slipped into Jill's now-vacant seat.

Lydia smoothed her pleated teal dress and stabbed her fork into her salad. "Come on, people. Introduce yourselves, don't be shy. We're not in kindergarten."

The boy on the other side of me gave a warm, friendly smile. He had dark spiked hair and eyes that were nearly black, and he looked like he was of Pacific Islands descent. I immediately decided I liked him-there was just something completely genuine in his expression that I didn't see a lot in people. "Hi, I'm Danny Mahaealani."

The auburn-haired girl sitting beside Allison leaned forward on her elbows, giving me an impish smile. "And I'm Chelsea."

Ashley was the bottle-blonde with an annoying nasal voice, Kyle, a thin boy with short chestnut hair, played first-line on the lacrosse team, and Ellie was a petite Asian girl with high cheekbones and shiny, choppy black hair. I knew I was going to forget their names by the time lunch ended, but I greeted them all warmly anyway.

"_Love _your wedges," Ashley gushed, bouncing a little in her seat.

"They are _so_ killer," Ellie added brightly. "What designer are they?"

It was awkward to be the center of attention; I had no idea what to say. "Um… they're not a designer brand, actually. I think I got them from- Forever 21?"

The expressions of excitement only seemed to grow on the girls' faces. "Awesome!"

"Totally amazing. They're way cuter than any designer brand I've seen!"

Chelsea pushed her lips into a pout, leaning up against Kyle's arm. "Oh, I _love_ Forever 21! Too bad we don't have one in this shit town, or even close to it." Chelsea looked up at Kyle pleadingly, hazel eyes impossibly wide. "You'll take me to the Sacramento Mall soon, won't you, babe? I'm going through shopping withdrawal."

Kyle, who I assumed was Chelsea's boyfriend, leaned over and planted a kiss at the corner of her mouth. I saw him roll his eyes when he pulled away. "Sure, sure…"

I dropped my gaze, staring down at my stubby nails like my cuticles were the most fascinating thing in the world. My leg bounced up and down under the table, a nervous habit that I just couldn't seem to drop.

Lydia took my silence as a cue to step back into the spotlight. "Oh my God!" she said loudly, waiting until all conversation died and every pair of eyes were on her before she continued. "Did anyone hear about the girl that just went missing?"

"_Another_ missing girl? Besides Erica Reyes?" asked Kyle, face contorted in confusion.

Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Uh, _yeah_. Do you ever watch the news, Kyle? I know you love ESPN, babe, but God…"

Kyle made a face at her. "Oh, shut up, Chels."

"Yeah," said Ashley, chomping on her gum thoughtfully. I knew she was trying to get everyone's attention off the couple. "Didn't that girl go to Laidley High or something?"

My heart was hammering a million miles per minute. The false confidence I had been wielding, which had been slowly fading, now burst like a soap bubble as I processed what I was hearing. _Another girl went missing?_

Ellie gave a grim nod. "Yup. Her name is Heather Monroe, I think. She was apparently having a really stellar seventeenth birthday party last night, but halfway through she disappeared. No one has seen her since."

"Maybe she got an offer to have a bit more fun," Chelsea said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Danny nearly choked on his chocolate milk. "Chelsea! This isn't funny!"

Lydia tsked. "Oh, get your panties out of a twist, Danny. It was just a joke. Besides, it might be true."

Danny's face reddened, but he didn't reply. I felt bad for the boy.

I glanced over at Allison, who had been silent for the entire conversation. She was sitting rigidly in her seat, clutching her water bottle tightly to her chest. The Hunter girl's eyes held a muted sort of horror, the kind that was sparked by a terrifying revelation. I could tell she suspected the same foul play that I did, and I would have put my hand on her arm to comfort her if… she didn't remind me so much of Kate.

Lydia, unlike Allison, didn't really seem to be bothered by Heather Monroe's disappearance; the news was just something new to gossip about. If she suspected that werewolves had any part in the case, she hid it behind a cool and calculating smile.

Ellie shot Danny an encouraging look from the other side of the table. "Danny's right, guys. I don't think that Heather girl would ditch all of her guests before her party really even got started." She gave a little frown. "Apparently the sheriff is working extra hard to find her-the Stilinski and Monroe families used to be really close friends, from what I've heard."

Eyes wide, I looked over my shoulder at Stiles and Scott. They were hunched over in their seats, and both of their faces held distraught expressions. A pang went through my chest as I watched Stiles squeeze his eyes shut and rub his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked like he hadn't slept at all last night-he had deep purple circles under his newly half-lidded eyes. Heather vanishing, paired with whatever Scott was telling him, seemed to be draining the boy.

Lydia and her lackeys-all except for Allison, who was absorbed in her phone-switched the drab topic of missing people to chat about the first lacrosse game, which was apparently only a week away. I figured that now was as good a time as any to eavesdrop on the boys.

It took some special effort on my part to tune out the hundreds of voices around me, but I finally managed to focus on just Scott and Stiles. I cocked my head to the side and gripped the edge of the lunch table, biting my lip in concentration.

"…should have been there," Stiles was saying, staring down at his hands. "I told Heather I would come, but then that thing happened with Isaac and-"

Scott bumped his shoulder against his friend's, giving a small shake of his head. "It's not your fault, man. You were helping us with Isaac-there was nothing you could have done."

Stiles pursed his lips. "Maybe not. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like shit for not being there to keep her safe." His golden-brown eyes were mournful.

I shifted in my seat, positioning myself so that I had a better view of the boys.

Scott swallowed; I could see his Adam's apple bob from where I sat. "I know, Stiles, and I'm sorry. But your dad is the best at what he does, and he'll find her. I know he will."

The Stilinski boy heaved a sigh. "I really hope so. I just really don't know if what Isaac said is worth our time, dude. How do we know that he wasn't just imagining Boyd and Erica in the bank vault, huh? I mean, no offense, but the kid's memories were repressed, and in the past, he hasn't always been the most reliable…"

I stiffened at that news. _They know where Erica and Boyd are? Then why the hell didn't they go to get them?_

It was Scott's turn to sigh. "We're just going to have to trust him, I guess. The full moon is tomorrow night, and Isaac said that the alphas only gave them until then to live. We can't abandon them, Stiles. I know we're walking into danger by going to the alpha pack's lair, but we have to at least try to save them."

Stiles traced his finger across the surface of the table. "He said Erica's already dead," he quietly pointed out, not looking up.

Bile clawed its way up my throat. I remembered Erica Reyes before she became a werewolf-tangled blonde hair, wide eyes, and unflattering, baggy clothes. She had been awkward but sweet, misunderstood in more ways than one. Then my brother turned her, and she changed in a buxom, vindictive bitch, pushing people around with her newfound confidence. But that had never been reason enough for me to hate her. Whatever Erica had done in the past, she didn't deserve to die at the hands of the alpha pack. _No one _did.

"We don't know that for sure," Scott said under his breath. "That's why Derek and I are going to the bank tonight. We can't risk waiting any longer to help them escape."

Stiles shoved a few fries in his mouth and grumbled, "I still don't understand why I can't come with you. You're _seriously_ going to leave me alone with Peter? You know, the psychotic werewolf who nearly killed all of us and then was resurrected from the dead?"

"Yes. And you _know_ why you can't come with us. It's going to be way too dangerous."

"Scott," Stiles groaned. "I've been-I've been locked in the school with a killer alpha, almost drowned with Derek in the pool when the Kanima was after us, was _paralyzed_ by the Kanima when I went to go get the Jeep fixed, and then-oh yeah!-then I was kidnapped by your ex-girlfriend's crazy-ass grandfather and got my face all busted up by him! And that's only _half_ of it." Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Do you honestly think that I can't handle danger?"

Scott gave his best friend a stern look. "Stiles, this is different."

Stiles rubbed his temples, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. "Of course it is."

"Derek and I will need someone to look over the blueprints and guide us if we get lost; that'll be your job. Plus, Beacon Hills First National Bank may be abandoned, but I bet there are still alarms and other things to watch out for. We don't want the alphas to know we're coming. If we're lucky, they won't be around when we slip in, and then we can just grab Erica and Boyd and go back to Derek's place to regroup. We need you to make sure that everything runs smoothly."

Stiles gave a snort and tilted his head back, gazing up at the ceiling. "Whatever you say, captain."

My concentration snapped when Lydia elbowed me in the ribs and exclaimed in a stage-whisper, "Oooh, hotties at twelve o'clock!"

I blinked a couple times, slightly annoyed, and turned around to see what she was babbling about. My stomach dropped to somewhere in my toes when I did.

Ethan and Aiden Devereaux were making their way over to us, identical smug smiles on their identically handsome faces. Without me realizing it, Ashley and Ellie had evacuated the table, leaving two seats completely unoccupied. _No, no, no!_ I silently pleaded. _Don't sit here. Please, please, don't sit here._

The boy on the left leaned up against the table, smile becoming only more arrogant as he caught sight of me.

"These seats taken?" he asked, eyes landing on Lydia.

She gave him a sickeningly sweet smile that made me want to vomit. "Not at all! It's-Aiden, right?" she questioned, batting her eyelashes for all that she was worth. Chelsea and Kyle exchanged a look, and Danny ducked his head. Allison didn't even look up from what she was doing, but I saw her give a tiny smile.

Aiden winked and dropped into the seat next to Lydia. "You got it, sweetheart."

Lydia didn't seem to notice, but the alpha was staring at me when he said it. His smirk became almost unbearably large. I gritted my teeth and tried to direct my gaze elsewhere.

Ethan took Ellie's seat next to Allison. The Argent girl looked up for a brief moment, gave a timid smile, and then started nibbling at a soggy fry.

It felt like the tension in the air between myself and the alphas was a ticking time bomb. The Devereaux boys' overwhelming scents and feelings of superiority were too much for me to handle. Stumbling to my feet, I grabbed my purse and gave everyone an unconvincing smile. My nerves were shot all to hell, and I couldn't take one more second of the alpha twins' gloating presence.

"I-I need to talk to Stiles," I said, my voice hoarse. That wasn't a lie-I _did_ need to talk to him. The twins narrowed their eyes, testing my sincerity with a slight inhale. Aiden gave a superior smile that made me want to punch him in the face. "Leaving so soon?" His copper eyes bore into me like lasers. "What a shame."

The haughty look Lydia was giving me was soon wiped off her face when Aiden turned his gaze on her. "You're not going to run off, too, are you?"

Lydia giggled, and I fought the urge to gag. "I wouldn't even _dream_ of it."

"Bye!" I called, whirling around. I hoped my voice was chipper and not full of disgust. I didn't look back, even though I could feel Ethan and Aiden's eyes on me every step that I took.

When I approached Stiles and Scott's table, I threw my purse down with a scandalized huff, causing both of the boys to jump nearly a foot in the air.

Stiles gave a tiny smile, nervousness practically radiating out of his pores. I couldn't tell if he was worried that I had overheard what he was talking about, or if he was anxious because of my somewhat-intimidating attire. "Oh. Um, hey, Seraphina." His eyes, warm and rich like coffee, took in every inch of my face. Upon seeing my expression, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows scrunched together. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head and jerked my thumb in the direction of Lydia's table. Both Scott and Stiles trained their curious gazes on the location. "Lydia invited me to sit down, but Creep 1 and Creep 2 decided to show up before I could get too comfortable."

The moment Scott's eyes locked on the alpha twins, he went completely rigid in his seat, clutching his lunch tray with nearly enough force to snap it in two. His cocoa eyes were almost glowing with shock and recognition. I knew he felt their presence like I did, the way a beta ached to find and please a higher-ranking werewolf. Scott clenched and unclenched his jaw so many times that I was afraid that he had forgotten how to speak, or that he was going to shift right in front of the whole cafeteria. "Those two," he grunted. "Those two are… they're-"

Scott's eyes flitted over to Stiles, who was gaping at him in an alarmed silence. I was tempted to slap both of them in the back of the head-Scott was on the verge of screaming out the word 'alphas', and Stiles was just staring like a moron.

"Jerk-offs," I provided with a grumble, crossing my arms over my chest. "No way can you be that pretty and not be complete ass-wipes."

Scott blinked several times and released his tray. I tried to pretend like I didn't see the indentations he had left there. Whatever primal urge had washed over him was fading now, but Scott's jaw was still firmly cemented together, and his eyes were still lit with barely suppressed hatred.

Stiles gave me an indignant look. "Hey, now. _I'm_ not a jerk," he informed me.

I couldn't stop the smirk that found its way to my lips. "Whoever said you were attractive, though?"

Stiles blanched, stared at me for a moment, and then burst into surprised laughter. "Where is this sass coming from?" he gasped after he got control of himself.

Embarrassment flooded through me. Being around Stiles and Lydia had made me careless-I voiced my opinions and teasings without so much as a second thought. I rubbed my bare shoulder, eyelashes brushing my cheekbones as I looked down, confidence evaporating. "It must be this outfit," I said with a grimace.

Stiles laughed again, taking one of my curls in between his fingers and giving it a slight tug. His fingers accidentally brushed against my cheek, causing my face to immediately heat up. I could almost picture Stiles' body pressed up against mine again, which only made my blush deepen. "Whatever it is," he breathed, still inexplicably close, "don't change it." Then the Stilinski boy stood up and took his tray to the trash can, leaving me with nothing more than air. I pressed my fingertips to my warm cheeks, looking over at Scott.

He had one eyebrow quirked, his puppy-like chocolate eyes wide, a tiny, knowing smile on his lips. For a moment, the Devereaux brothers were completely forgotten. "Did I miss something?" Scott smirked.

"Oh, shut up," I laughed, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

Darkness had fallen much too quickly. After some debate, I had decided that I would follow Derek and Scott to the bank to make sure their plan went through as it should. Of course, the boys didn't know that. I would keep my distance, and if it sounded like they needed any help, I would intervene. I knew what that would mean for me, and I was willing to accept it. Scott and Derek's safety was my first priority, above all else.

I pulled out my dusty pair of combat boots from the shoe closet by the door, lacing them up over top of the black jeggings I had been wearing earlier. I knew my brother and McCall would be leaving to go to the bank soon. The cheap canary-yellow clock I had bought at the local thrift store ticked loudly from its spot above the T.V., too obnoxious for my sensitive hearing. Grabbing my Ipod from the kitchen counter, I plopped down onto my worn loveseat, briefly considering tossing the clock from my balcony. Unfortunately, I doubted my neighbors would enjoy the disturbance, so I refrained from doing so.

My gear was spread out on the coffee table, giving the room an ominous air. I shook the thought away, knowing that it was too late now to change my mind. Slipping my ear buds into place, I clicked on my music and cranked One Headlight by the Wallflowers almost as loudly as it would go. Music helped settle me when nothing else could; that was the only reason I owned an Ipod in the first place. Other electronic devices like cell phones seemed trivial, especially since I had a house in case of an emergency.

I hummed the familiar tune as I pulled on my baggy black jacket and elbow-length black leather gloves. I then examined the contents of the ratty backpack Ophelia had given me-most of the items were herbs that would enhance my casting abilities, but there were also a few different weapons: two daggers and a flask of mountain ash. I had protested when Ophelia had put it in my bag, reminding her that I was, in fact, a werewolf, and that it wouldn't just prohibit my enemies movement-it would prevent my own movement as well.

Ophelia had assured me, in her slowest and most patient voice, that the mountain ash would be perfectly safe to carry with me so long as none of it touched my skin. But still, I took great precaution with it, treating the substance like it was a deadly poison. _For werewolves and other shape-shifters, it is,_ I reminded myself as I slid one of my wickedly sharp daggers into the sheath in my right boot. Learning to use weapons had seemed useless to me, even more so than learning magic. I had my claws and fangs to defend myself with, but Ophelia had insisted that I carry at least one weapon with me. She had pointed out that there may be a time when I couldn't shift quickly enough, and a dagger would be the difference between life and death. At the time, I had grumbled under my breath and pushed it off as Ophelia being superstitious and overly prepared, but tonight, I was relieved to have some backup.

I pushed myself off the couch and wandered into the bathroom, pawing around for a few minutes before I found a hair tie. I yanked my curls up into a high ponytail, making sure I caught all escaping wisps with bobby pins. After examining myself in the mirror for a moment, I could help but laugh at the contrast of my outfits from today. Earlier, my outfit had resembled the attire of someone with immense wealth, and now I was dressed as what most people would officially deem a spy.

Pulling my hood up to shadow my face, I stepped out of the bathroom, took out my ear buds, and shoved my Ipod deep into my weapons' bag. Then I swung the backpack over my shoulder and opened the front door, fear gripping my heart like a vise.

It didn't take me too long to reach the bank-I kept a brisk walk almost the whole time, clinging to the edge of the trees and buildings that I passed. I was glad for my jacket; the temperature had dropped considerably, signaling the approach of fall. Though the air was still fairly warm, it carried a chill with it now, like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. I shuddered involuntarily as I pressed myself against the cold brick building, straining my ears to hear what was happening.

Beacon Hills First National Bank loomed threateningly over top of me. It was huge and definitely abandoned- windows were boarded up with wooden planks, and when I had passed the double doors up front, I had noticed that they were locked with thick, looping chains that had long ago rusted. A perfect lair for the alpha pack, no doubt. And apparently the perfect place to keep two innocent betas hostage.

Anger spilled through my veins at the thought of Boyd and Erica being trapped in this dark, desolate place for four _months._ What did the alphas want, other than to torture the Hale pack and kidnap humans? Why were they in Beacon Hills in the first place?

My thoughts were disrupted by nearby voices. I crouched down behind a couple of garbage cans, wrinkling my nose at the putrid smell. The voices grew closer and closer, one young and very familiar: Scott. The other was deeper than I remembered, and surprisingly gruff: Derek. My throat nearly closed up. This was as close as I had been to my older brother in nearly seven years, and I couldn't say a single word, couldn't move. Tears threatened to spill over as I listened to the boys bicker about the risks of their choice. Finally, I heard the fire ladder clatter once, then twice. Both Scott and Derek had came to an agreement and were entering the building.

After I was sure the coast was clear, I stood up and brushed the dirt from my jeggings, cautiously peering around. The only thing I could do now was wait.

I didn't have to wait very long, as it turned out. Snarls echoed through the building after a few moments-I recognized Scott and Derek's voices trying to reason with Boyd. Faintly, I heard another voice: it was Stiles on the phone with Scott. He sounded frantic, yelling about how the walls of the vault were made of some mineral that caused moonlight to be reflected. Hence, prohibiting a werewolf to change.

Horror filled me. Boyd had missed three full moons; he was nearly rabid. I was frozen in shock as I listened to the fight that commenced, and I tensed when I heard Scott scream something about mountain ash. Trembling from head to toe, I propelled myself forward, knowing that the boys needed me. Whatever was going on, it was awful.

My hands reached for the fire escape's ladder, but before I could pull myself up, I heard Scott shriek: "No, Allison! Don't break the line!"

_Allison?! What the hell is she doing here? She's going to get herself killed!_

Somewhere deep inside the building, I heard the cold, snarling laughs of the alpha pack as they listened to Scott and Derek's struggle. Before I could move any further, however, a huge shape bounded out of the building, tearing away at top speed.

My heart slammed against my rib cage. _Boyd._

I didn't really think, I just moved. I was running alongside the beta in an instant, my eyes flashing golden. "Stop!" I screeched, reaching for the hulking dark-skinned boy. He growled at me, picking up his speed. There was something completely feral in his eyes, and it chilled me to the bone. Those weren't the eyes of a human, or even a werewolf-those were the eyes of a wild animal. I made another grab for Boyd's arm, baring my fangs in frustration, but all I managed to do was rip his sleeve. He swiped the side of my face with a well-aimed blow, claws catching flesh almost immediately. Blood spurted into my eyes, nearly blinding me, and I stumbled as I struggled to wipe it away. I could already feel the wound healing, but the damage was done: Boyd had outrun me, slipping into the cover of the trees. I gave a frustrated growl, breath coming out of me in pants.

Long tendrils of hair had fallen from my ponytail, and they, like my clothes, clung to me with sweat. I crept back down the alley near the bank, making sure to keep to the shadows of the building on the opposite side of the bank. Sliding down the cold wall, I buried my face in my hands and fought the urge to scream. How had I let Boyd slip right through my fingers? I had been _so close_ to catching him, but I had failed.

I heard the clatter of the fire escape and shot to my feet, terror consuming me once more. I darted around the side of the building, hoping I hadn't been spotted. I didn't know who was climbing down-for all I knew, it was the alpha pack, coming to rip my throat out. I tried to calm my thumping heart, knowing it would be a dead giveaway. It was silent for a few moments, eerily so. After I was sure it was safe, I stood up and peered around the corner.

My eyes widened as a hand shot out of the darkness, wrapping around my throat and slamming me into the wall behind me. I struggled against my captor with a ferocity I didn't know I possessed. But it was not an alpha that held me: it was Scott.

His lips were pulled back from his teeth in a horrible snarl. "I _knew_ there was something off about you! I smelled your scent for a second yesterday when you were with Stiles, but then it faded, and I thought for sure I was imagining it. You had us fooled for a bit, Seraphina, but when I caught a whiff of you tonight, I knew you were a werewolf. I knew you had lied to us. What I don't know is how you hid your scent," he growled. "But I intend to find out." Scott's face was dangerously close to mine when he hissed, "Are you working with the alpha pack? Is that what you came here to do-pretend to be friends with Stiles and then use him in some kind of sick way to get to me?"

I couldn't answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw who had accompanied Scott to ambush me: Allison. Her eyes were wide, disbelieving, but her expression was stony, and I knew she had made up her mind. She agreed with Scott; I was a threat. She was a Hunter, after all, and Hunters didn't put up with dangerous werewolves.

Scott's hand was still clamped tightly around my throat, nails digging into the soft flesh there. I was pinned between the wall behind me and a very pissed-off beta, struggling to breathe as his grip began to tighten even more. Scott's eyes were blazing golden, bright in the darkness of the night. I could taste the McCall boy's anger and fear in the back of my throat, almost prominent enough to make me gag. My feet dangled inches off the ground, and dark spots danced across my vision as I tried, unsuccessfully, to pry Scott's fingers from my neck.

"Let…go…of me," I gurgled. Scott's emotions soon became my own-I was angry because of Scott's sudden attack, and terrified that he would crush my windpipe before I could explain myself.

Scott let out a growl that nearly made me shiver. His teeth were inches from my face, sharp and incredibly canine. "I'm tired of watching the people I love get hurt!" He slammed my head against the concrete wall, and pain shot through my skull instantaneously. I saw Allison's hands fly to cover her mouth, and I gave a fearsome snarl, struggling with everything I had. "It's time that you gave me some answers."

Scott dropped me to the ground, and I fell to my knees, coughing and gasping for air. The world was spinning too quickly, and I thought for sure I was going to pass out until a voice sliced through the darkness, making everything sharpen into Technicolor. "Scott? What the hell are you doing?! You're supposed to be going after Boyd!"

The voice soon wasn't just a voice, but a person who walked out of the mist that surrounded all of us. He was still as handsome as I remembered, with a strong jaw and deep-set yellow-green that nearly matched my own, but he had grown into his looks considerably over the past six years. Stubble covered his face, and eyes which had once been bright and teasing were now cold and distant. The leather jacket my father had given him for his sixteenth birthday was wrapped firmly around his frame, actually fitting now that his body had filled out with thick, hard muscle.

Derek made his way toward us, strides long and even, his dark clothing nearly blending into the background. But I saw every inch of him, my eyes sweeping over him like they couldn't soak up enough of his image. My older brother wasn't a self-absorbed boy anymore-I could see the pain and anger in the planes of his face, and I knew Derek had become a man without me being there to see it.

It seemed like an eternity later that he noticed me crouched on my knees, hands splayed out on the gritty ground so I could support myself. My hair had come completely undone from its hair band now, and it hung in front of my face in thick curtains. My breathing was still ragged, but now it was from the tears that leaked out of the corner of my eyes.

Derek came to stand beside Scott, confusion and anger blatantly in his voice as he spat: "Damn it, Scott, what is going-"

His voice caught in his throat when I looked up at him. My eyes met his, and for a moment, Derek stared at me, his mouth falling open in shock. I saw fear and denial fighting for dominance on his face, which had drained itself of all color, and then my brother's pupils dilated to pinpoints as realization sank in. Derek stumbled back from me, blinking rapidly like I would disappear if he kept closing his eyes. Like he had just saw a ghost. Derek was trembling almost as badly as I was when he whispered: "Seraphina?"

I couldn't move from where I was sitting. I could only stare up at my brother, tears sluicing down my face, as he shook his head, not believing his eyes. "Sera?" His voice broke, and it nearly killed me to hear him say my old nickname, to see him like this, so full of pain and confusion and hope. I had caused this; I had known that letting Derek go would be the best for the both of us, but I had insisted on coming back to Beacon Hills, even though Ophelia had disagreed with my choice. _If your brother has already made peace with your death_, she had told me_, seeing you will only cause him more grief and heartbreak._

But I had been selfish. I had wanted to be close to Derek, to know that he was near me. All those years, I had been so terribly alone, and I had just wanted something that was familiar, constant, and real. I had wanted my brother. But now that he was standing in front of me, looking close to the edge of his sanity, I wondered what I had done.

Had I stolen away what stable ground Derek thought he was standing on?

Derek was my world-when we were children, he had always treated me specially. He would slip me an extra cookie from Mom's secret stash, lift me up on his shoulders to reach the ripest of apples, and almost always take me along to hang out with him and Kate. We were virtually inseparable, even though he was five years older than me.

And now, staring into the eyes that were so similar to mine, I knew that the years had made us into people who didn't recognize each other, who didn't share the same bond we once had. We were strangers to each other, and that tore at my soul like nothing else could. The fire and Kate's betrayal had ripped us apart, but time was the cruelest thing of all. Time had created barriers that might not ever come down again.

I dropped my face into my dirt-stained hands and began to cry like I never had before.

**Did you like it? XD I'd like to have at least 10 reviews this time, pretty please. lovelies. You've been amazing so far, keep it up! xoxoxo**


	8. Chapter 7

…**Hello. It's been a while, guys. A plethora of apologies are spewing out of my mouth right now, even though you can't hear them. My life has been extra crazy these past two weeks, and I know that shouldn't be a valid excuse, but I believe it is. I've been preparing for a trip I'm taking next month-I'm traveling to England, Scotland, and France with a tour group from my school. It's been hectic trying to make sure I have everything I need, but I'm REALLY excited. I've also been trying to get through The Grapes of Wrath, which is apart of my summer reading for AP English. I'm only on chapter 5, and the book has already lost my interest, if it even had it in the first place. And the last sad excuse I'm going to give you: I had so many ideas for this chapter that I ultimately gave myself writer's block. Or would it be writer's overload? I couldn't decide what scenes I wanted to include or how everything was going to play out. Never fear, though. The much anticipated Chapter 7 is here… P.S.-Thank you to all of my readers. I enjoy your reviews almost too much. I asked for 10 reviews…and you gave me 19! Your dedication is impressive.**

_Do you feel cold and lost in desperation_

_You build up hope, but failure's all you've known_

_Remember all the sadness and frustration_

_And let it go, let it go._

_-Iridescent, by Linkin Park_

**Chapter 7: Past Mistakes and Present Struggles**

Desperation has a funny way of working. It blinds and deceives, convincing you that all logical reasoning means nothing. It causes pain to rip at your skin, anxiety to clog your throat, and terror to lodge itself in your heart. It is the worst kind of illness, to which the only cure is escape. Desperate people are the most dangerous people; they will so anything necessary to get what they want.

And in that moment, as salty tears ran freely down my cheeks, I became one of those people.

I wanted nothing more than to get away from the cataclysm I had just caused-I wanted to put millions of miles between myself and Derek's shocked face, Allison and Scott's combined confusion, and my own self of self-dread. Nothing in my life had ever been stable; it felt like I was constantly performing a balancing act, teetering on the edge of uncertainty more than I would like to admit. And now, I had tipped the fragile scale, throwing everything off its axis. I hadn't just threatened my own delicate state of mind, but I had disrupted Derek's as well, and that was what truly broke me. I couldn't bear one more second fearing the unknown.

So I ran. I bolted passed Scott and Allison, who were thrown completely off guard by my sudden action. Derek's head snapped up, but even he wasn't expecting my retreat. My legs pumped furiously beneath me, blurring as I ran full speed down the alley and into the cover of the trees. With every crashing step, the world became a little bit harder to see; my tears were hindering my otherwise flawless sight. The trees around me were nothing more than a blur of color, barely registering as I tore through the foliage. I heard shouts and the squeal of tires in the distance-Allison's car was tailing my on the nearby road.

I pushed myself even harder, gasping as my lungs ached for oxygen. My thoughts were a jumbled mess of shattered memories and overwhelming feeling, nearly crushing me with a force that was almost physical. I didn't ask myself why I was running; I already knew the answer to that question. Fear was what propelled me forward, taking no heed as brambles snagged my clothing, as branches stung my face with their biting blows. But stronger than the fear was the desperation-it was what really fueled my frantic departure.

Longing for comfort, for safety, for _familiarity,_ I fled, creating a reckless trail of destruction through Beacon Hills Preserve. I moved as fast as my feet would carry me, sprinting to the very place that I had run away from all those years ago.

I burst into the clearing at top speed, causing a flock of birds to take flight from the nearby trees. My foot snagged on a root in my haste, sending me flying forward. I landed on my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs and jarring my head on impact. I had bitten into my lip, and now blood dribbled down my chin, mingling with the salty tears. The pain lasted for only a moment, fading as the injury began to mend itself. My hands clutched the warm soil and dead leaves underneath me, and I tightened my grip, forcing my trembling head from the ground.

The Hale family mansion stood several yards away. A charred and broken skeleton of what it used to be. Windows were busted out, the front porch looked as if one touch would make it crumble to dust, and ivy freely climbed the sides of the abandoned building. The front door hung ajar, gaping like a mouth full of broken teeth in the darkness. My insides writhed as I looked at the mutilate shell that had once been my home.

But then the image changed. I saw the house in its former glory: a black tar roof, three chimneys, black shutters, white trim around the windows and front door, and wooden paneling covering the rest of the building. The porch was held up by sturdy beams once more, and several people were seated on wicker chairs in the shade of its awning. There was my mother, wearing a fitted white sundress, her dark waves falling over her shoulders unbound, deep brown eyes full of love in her angular face. She clutched a glass of lemonade in one hand and reached out to touch my father's knee with the other. My dad-dressed in khakis and a casual button-down shirt-turned his yellow-green eyes on her. His smile was heart-breakingly familiar. He said something to my mother, and they both chuckled and gazed down at the children seated around them in a circle.

Libby was holding one of her favorite dolls-a Cabbage Patch Kid named Missy-in her arms. She ran a brush through the doll's hair so vigorously that it made her own short copper ringlets bounce. Her eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, her tongue just barely poking out of the corner of her mouth. She was so focused that she didn't see Collin perched on his knees behind her, dangling a plastic spider above her head.

His dirty blonde hair was tousled by the wind, and his unusual blue eyes flashed deviously as he dropped the toy on Libby's head. Zoe and Zach, who were sprawled out on their stomachs a few inches away, fighting over whose painting was better, looked over a the littlest Hale. The twins' dark eyes lit up with amusement, and the both suppressed giggles as Libby flailed her arms, trying to untangle the fake arachnid from her hair.

Amelia-who had been silently sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the porch-twisted around in her spot, dark, pixie cut hair fluttering in the wind. My aunt gave her children a warning look, and their giggles ceased. Then she heaved a sigh and turned around, eyes going back to skimming the cloudless blue sky. Laura was seated beside Amelia, a smirk on her pretty face as she watched the chaos unfold. She fell onto her back, her short lace skirt hiking up further than was lady-like. She yanked in down with an absent hand, fingers going to run through her chocolate tresses after she was finished. Laura's amusement was obvious in her piercing green eyes. Suddenly, she rolled up into sitting position, grabbing out little brother in her arms.

Collin shrieked with laughter as Laura tickled him mercilessly. Libby grinned and joined in, tears momentarily forgotten. Zoe and Zach added their hands to the mix, and soon everyone was laughing, barely able to breathe.

The dead sat on the porch, living a moment that never would happen. They seemed like they were at peace, even though Derek, Peter, and I weren't with them, and that should have put me at ease. But it didn't. I wanted to push myself off the ground and climb the porch, to step back in time and be eleven-year-old Seraphina again, the child who loved fantasy novels with happy endings and music with an upbeat tune. My whole entire life with my family had been stolen from me, and if I could just live out this moment with them forever, I would finally be content.

Yet the dead… could not see me. I was invisible to them, like they should have been to me. I reached out a hand, my whole body shaking as I watched them, imploring. I wanted them to notice me. I _needed_ them to.

"Sorry, squirt. You're staring through a one-way glass, so to speak."

That voice: teasing, with a cold undertone. A voice that I hadn't heard in years. A voice that I had never wanted to hear again. I turned my head slowly, and there she was, a smug smirk on her lips, blonde hair secured with a tie. Her eyes were laughing, filled with sick humor, and her hands were firmly planted on her hips.

Kate Argent.

She towered over me, rolling her eyes as I cowered. "Well, except for me. I can see you just fine. Oh, stop looking so scared, Ser-bear. I'm dead." Kate walked in a circle around me, leather boots snapping twigs under her feet. "But then again, that doesn't make much of a difference, does it? I've hurt you more in death than I ever did when I was alive. It's ironic, really." White rage consumed me, but I couldn't move. Kate tsked. "C'mon, kiddo, take it from me: you wouldn't have stood a chance, even if you had gone to the authorities. You were far too weak; you still are. I would've killed you in an instant." Kate crouched down in front of me, running her fingers down my face slowly, nails biting against my skin.

"You were my greatest victory, Sera," she breathed. "I didn't see it in life, but death has been…enlightening, I guess you could say. I realized that losing you to the fire wouldn't have been as satisfying as watching you suffer like you do now." Kate grinned. "Your agony keeps my memory alive, Seraphina. It fuels everything you want to forget. It's what makes you special. You just can't let go of the past, and so, I'll always be here." Kate pulled a silver dagger from her boot, twirling it around each finger. "I'll always be alive in your mind, Seraphina." She pressed the blade to my neck, and the cold metal kissed the tender skin there. "We're inseparable, just like we were when I was alive." I couldn't even force myself to move away from the blade. Kate gave a laugh. "Oh, don't you believe me, Seraphina? Haven't you ever hear the phrase, 'Dead men tell no lies'? It applies to women, too, y'know."

And then Kate yanked the dagger across my throat.

I screamed. I screamed like I never had before, a long, piercing wail that was full of agony. The noise didn't seem human, in all honesty. It was a howl that pierced the night and ripped me from the vision my mind had created, throwing me back into the darkness of the night. I screamed until I felt hands on my shoulders, hoisting me up, and then my wails turned into broken sobs once again. Arms encircled me, and a strong hand went to cover my mouth, muffling my pitiful whimpering.

I didn't even fight. I went limp in those arms, tears still falling. I blinked and blinked, but Kate's face wouldn't leave my mind. It was like the image of her was burned into my retinas. The vision had seemed so _real_.

Slowly, the person behind me turned me around to face them, removing his hand from my mouth when my breathing had steadied enough.

It was Derek.

I wasn't surprised. I knew he would chase after me, if only to make sure I was real and not an apparition. His eyes were burning, cold and full of an intensity that I didn't remember him having before. But I could see the fear and disbelief underneath Derek's emotionless mask, and I knew he was just as afraid as I was. He dropped his arms, and I nearly fell to the ground. "How is this possible?" His voice was measured, holding none of the confusion it had earlier. The urgency was still there, though. "How are you alive?"

I wrapped my arms around my torso and attempted a smile, but it was bitterly twisted. "I ask myself the same thing every day, Derek."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't be smart with me, Seraphina.. I want answers."

I looked at the ground, tears still clinging to my lashes. "What can I say? Nothing I tell you will make a difference. Nothing I say can bring them back."

Derek grabbed my arm, eyes now blazing with fury. "You can tell me how you managed to escape the fire when no one else did. You can tell me where you've been for almost _seven years._"

I ripped my arm from Derek's grasp, baring my teeth. "Do you think this is easy for me?" Derek said nothing, simply standing there and staring at me. "I never wanted this," I choked. "I never wanted to hurt anyone, or leave anyone behind. When the fire started, all I could think about was saving them. Libby and Collin were in the basement with me, playing hide-and-seek. Peter had just came down to tell us that dinner was ready, and then… and then the windows were busted in, and Molotov cocktails were thrown in with lit matches…" I could feel my throat constricting. "The fire spread so fast, so fast, and one of the beams fell from the ceiling, and I couldn't…I couldn't s-see Libby or Collin or Peter anymore, I could just here their screams."

Derek gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. "I crawled to the laundry room," I told him. "The window above the washing machine was still closed, and barely big enough for me to fit through. I got burned really bad on my side just trying to slip through it. And when I got outside, there was so much smoke that I couldn't see which way to run. I was coughing and terrified, but I thought that maybe, maybe I could go get the fire department. Maybe, if I ran fast enough, I could save them." Hot tears leaked from my eyes once again. "But then I s-saw her. I saw her standing there with matches in her hand and it didn't make any sense, no sense at all." I put both hands on either side of my face as Derek's eyes flew open, pain now clearly seen. "Kate was apart of us. She was _yours_. I never thought-I never dreamed… How could she hurt us? You loved her so much, and she ripped away everything. _Everything._" Trembling, I tried to control my breathing. My vision was beginning to swim. "She saw me. And I knew-_I knew_- that if I didn't run, she would kill me, too. I knew she would never stop looking for me; I had heard enough stories about the Hunters to know that to be true."

Derek's hands turned into fists. "So I ran away. And I l-left them. God, I left them to die, Derek. I ran because I was scared, and because I knew that there was nothing I could do to save them. I should have stayed with my family, with my pack, and died a noble death. I should have…but I didn't. I abandoned the people who would have never abandoned me." My eyes are closed. "I moved from foster home to foster home, thinking that my survival would take Kate's attention off you and Laura. I wanted you to be safe, so I kept on moving. But Kate never came for me, and I met a family that wanted to adopt me." I took a deep breath and looked my older brother straight in the eye. "A Charm-Caster family."

Derek's mouth opened, then closed almost immediately afterward. "Those are just stories that Mom liked to tell us," he said, voice quiet and terse.

I shook my head. "No, they're not. Their magic, their powers-it's just as real as werewolves are. Ophelia Sinclair is the woman's name, and she taught me spells." Derek's eyes widen slightly in alarm. "I know it doesn't make much sense. But Ophelia figured that if I wanted to come back here, I would need a way to shield my scent from other wolves. I knew I needed to come back to Beacon Hills after…after what happened to Laura. I thought the both of you were still in New York, and I felt like-like I needed to be close to you again. Laura's death nearly made me go insane," I admitted.

"I've been here for a year, Derek. I know everything that's happened. I wanted to help, I really did, but I couldn't…I couldn't tell you I was alive. I couldn't bear it. So maybe I'm a selfish bitch, maybe I should have never came back, but I want you to know that I never wanted for it to be like this. I never wanted things to be so broken between us. I just wanted to make things right again," I finished.

Derek watched me for a long moment. I wanted to hear him say that he forgave me, that he knew my pain. But he watched me with those alien eyes and said in a harsh voice: "You ran away from everything you had ever known, Seraphina. You ran away when they needed you, when Laura and I _needed_ you. And you're still running; I can see it in your eyes. So how am I supposed to trust you? How do I know you won't turn your back on me like you did before?"

His words hit me like a slap to the face. "I'm your _sister_, Derek," I seethed, anger slowly mounting. How could he stare at me like that? Like I was a criminal? "I was a child, and I was afraid. What do you want me to say?"

Derek ground his teeth, expression bitter. "You may have been a child, Seraphina. But you were never stupid. You made a choice. And now…now you have to live with the consequences." Derek turned to leave. Like we were done. As if I was _dismissed_. My anger boiled over. "You act like this is all my fault! You act like you can just pin the blame on me! But at least I know what I did wrong, Derek. _I'm not the one who fell in love with a Hunter!_"

Derek stopped in his tracks, stiffening. I could barely control the words that poured from my mouth: "You let Kate in, no questions asked. You let her worm her way into your mind, and soon, she was apart of us. There was no doubt; you were never suspicious of her. You got close to her, and she took advantage of you. She _used_ you! But you didn't know until it was too late. You never even thought…None of us did. Yet it was _you_ who told Kate our secret, Derek. It was _you _she set the fire for. She wanted to see you hurt; she wanted to destroy you at your very core. Kate may have started the fire, Derek," I breathed, "but _you_ let her in. They're gone because of _you."_

The words had lingered in the back of my mind for years, festering like an infection. I hadn't known that buried under all my sadness and self-loathing, there was another person that I blamed for my pain. I hadn't known the bitterness was for my brother until he threw his own hurtful words my way, and by then, it was too late; I couldn't stop. I blamed myself for not saving my family, but I blamed Derek for putting us in danger. I blamed Derek for the fire that had ruined our lives.

Derek whirled around, eyes flaring red. I should have been terrified. The alpha in front of me was a force to be reckoned with. But in my mind, I saw the skinny boy I grew up with, the one who liked to give me piggy back rides and who taught me how to swim. And I wasn't intimidated. I forced the beta inside of my to meet his eyes, my own now glowing golden in the darkness. We're illuminated by nothing more than moonlight, but I could see every contour of Derek's face, the set of his shoulders, his bared teeth.

"Don't talk to me about _need, _Derek. I'm not a pup anymore. Where were you and Laura when the fire started? Dad said you must have gone to a pool party one of Laura's friends were having. He had told you that you weren't supposed to go, but neither of you listened. You needed me? We needed _you_ when we were choking on smoke and ash. We needed you when we were trying to escape. We needed you when we were _dying!" _I screamed. "But you weren't there, Derek. You weren't. So don't tell me that you _needed_ me. Don't act like this is all my doing." My claws dug into my legs, spilling blood. I could feel it dripping down my thighs. "I may have ran away. I may be a coward. But you're lying to yourself if you think for one second that you have no part in this guilt. I've always been loyal to you. If you don't know if you can trust me by now, you don't know me at all. And if anyone should be worried about trust, it should be me. How do I know your decisions are the right ones? How do I know you'll be there when _I _need _you?"_

Derek's eyes faded back to green. He looked at me, really looked at me. I could see everything in his eyes then: all the sadness, all the anger, all the guilt. I could taste every emotion he was feeling, and it nearly made tears spring to my eyes again. He blamed himself as much as I did, but he had hidden it well. He didn't want to get hurt anymore. He was tired of losing the people he cared about. He wanted to trust me, but the barrier between us…it would take some time to dissolve. I saw and tasted all of his feelings, and I knew that deep down, Derek was still Derek. He had changed, but so had I. We were both two sides of the same coin. It hurt me to see him so broken. For a moment, I had thought he didn't care at all. But that was the problem with us Hales: we cared too much, but we were just afraid to show it.

"You don't know I'll be there," he said. "You don't know that I'll protect you when you need protecting. You don't know any of that. But neither do I. That's why you have to trust me. I know I've made mistakes." Derek clenched his jaw, looking up at the moon. The light cast an eerie glow over the sharp planes of his face. "I know you have, too. And I know the only thing that we can do now is move on from what's been holding us back. I know you blame me, Sera." His voice was soft, my nickname barely more than a whisper. "And you have every right to. I blame myself for what happened. Kate was my biggest mistake." He took a deep breath in from his nose. "But we can't stay in the past. It's done and over with, and our family… they're gone. They wouldn't have wanted us to blame each other. They would have wanted us to live in peace. So can we try? Can we try to find that peace again? I'm not saying it's going to be easy." There was still hardness gleaming in his eyes. "But it's what they would have wanted."

I stared at Derek, pursing my lips. I was weak in many ways, but I could show none of them in front of an alpha. He had already seen me crying, and that was weakness enough for most alphas to go in for the kill. But Derek was my brother. And though he had thrown biting words my direction, he wouldn't actually harm me unless I made the first move. My face was calm and collected when I asked: "Is that what you want?"

Derek's thick brows came together. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to find that peace again?" I asked him. "Is that what _you_ want?"

Derek opened his mouth, almost at loss for words. I could tell he was struggling to find the answer. Did he really want to let me back into his life? But then he gave a tight nod and said: "Yes. That's what I want."

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. My eyes wandered back over to the ruined house, but suddenly, the pain of seeing it wasn't nearly as bad. I heard my family's laughter ring inside of my head. Some things couldn't be forgotten. I remembered the words I had said to Stiles at the pond: _We just…just have to make the best of what we have left. _It was time I started taking my own advice. I gave Derek something that could have been considered a smile. "Good. I do, too."

There was still tension between us; I could feel it in the air. But the anger had dissipated almost completely, and for that, I was thankful. We had to start somewhere.

Derek opened his mouth, seeming unsure, but before he could utter a word, a car screeched to a halt in front of us. Allison cut the engine, flinging the door open to her Toyota Camry. Scott followed suit, climbing out of the car with ease. They stared at Derek and I for a moment, taking in our disheveled appearances. It looked like we had just had an all-out brawl: Derek's shirt was bloody from his earlier fight with Boyd, and my face and pants were smeared with blood, but from my own self-injuries. Of course, Scott and Allison had no way of knowing that.

Scott pushed Allison behind him, which made her roll her eyes and push him away. She had no weapons that I could see, but she walked over to us with an ample amount of confidence. Scott shook his head and approached much more cautiously, eyes flitting back and forth between Derek and I. I knew Allison and Scott were confused; I could taste that much. But there was a curious look of disgust on Allison's face as she looked at my brother, and Scott's eyes held distrust and anger when he looked at me, which made me all the more uncomfortable. A soft breeze made the trees rustled, adding only a bit of noise to the sounds of the night.

The McCall boy stopped a few feet away from me. His eyes are now focused solely on me, but he spoke to Derek: "How do you know her?"

Derek said nothing for a few heartbeats. And then he replied, voice more even and in control than I expected: "Seraphina is my younger sister."

Scott blanched. His mouth fell open, and I watched as his eyes grew. Allison's face had gone pale, and she seemed like she was going to be sick. I knew it was a shock to the both of them, but did they really have to stare at me like that? I had just hung out with them at lunch, and now they were looking at me like I wasn't even the same person. I winced, giving that some thought. Technically, I guess I wasn't. At lunch I had been Seraphina Sinclair: semi-sarcastic, sometimes shy, and a human. Now I was Seraphina Hale: dangerous, a werewolf, and Derek's baby sister.

I had lied to them. I knew the former couple had every reason to not believe me _or _Derek. I just hoped that they would.

"Your sister?" Scott croaked. "But I thought Laura was your only-"

I saw the corners of Derek's eyes tighten. "There were five of us," I snapped, sensing my brother's discomfort. "Laura, Derek, me, Collin, and Libby."

Scott frowned. "I'm sorry. But… that still doesn't explain what you're doing here, or how you're even alive."

I gave a sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. "I managed to escape the fire. Just me. I would have stayed in Beacon Hills if it wasn't for my family's murderer, who I thought would kill me if she caught me." I turned my eye on Allison. "Your aunt didn't like to leave loose ends." There was no accusation in my voice; I didn't blame Allison for what her aunt had done. But still, Scott let a growl slip out from between his teeth.

I knew the waxing moon was affecting him. Even though Scott had managed to get a hold of his wolf form during a full moon, his moods were still able to shift on a whim, just like any werewolf's could. The full moon was tomorrow, and we all knew it; we could feel it in our blood. Scott was normally sweet and just a tad bit awkward, but now he looked hostile and maybe even a bit dangerous.

Giving a shrug, I walked closer to the other beta. "After I left town-left state, actually-I moved through a couple foster homes. I was adopted about a year later by the Sinclair family. To answer your question: I was able to block my scent from you and all the other wolves with magic. The Sinclair family are something called Charm-Casters."

"I've heard of them," Allison said, finally speaking. Her voice is strong, and her eyes are still aimed at me, wariness apparent. "The bestiary talked about a group of people who could use energy to manipulate things around them, often with words or special herbs. Charm-Casters are the closest thing in real life to witches."

I gave a small nod. "When Derek and I were young, our mother used to tell stories about them. She said Charm-Casters were like our guardian angels; they're normally protectors of a specific werewolf family, and they watch over their patrons."

"I thought they were just stories," Derek muttered.

Scott shook his head, obviously still bewildered. "Nothing is just a story."

"So you're saying that a Charmer woman taught you a spell to block your scent?" Allison clarified. When I nodded again, she frowned. "Why would you need to hide who you are?"

I cleared my throat, turning to walk a few feet away. "I was afraid to come back. I thought your aunt would be here, waiting for me. But after Laura's…death, I couldn't stay away anymore. I wanted a fresh start here in Beacon Hills, where I was close enough to watch Derek without him knowing I was here." I kicked the heel of my combat boot against the leaf-covered ground, realizing how childishly stupid I sounded. "I didn't want Derek to… go through that pain all over again when he found out I saw alive. But mostly, I was afraid that things would never-would never be the same." I looked up at Scott. "I overheard you talking to Stiles about going to the bank tonight. And I decided that I would be there, just in case you needed any help. I tried to catch Boyd, but he outran me. And you know the rest."

Scott's expression had softened a bit, which was relieving. There was still wariness in his eyes, just like there was in Allison's, but I took his change in demeanor as a good sign. "So you're not working with the alpha pack? You have no idea why they're here?"

I shook my head. "I have no clue. I want to know just as much as you do."

"I guess that's good. When I found you with Stiles, I caught a whiff of your scent, but it was really odd-it was almost…fading in and out, or something."

"When your emotions run high," I said, a blush creeping my cheeks, "spells don't work as well. You have to be perfectly calm and collected, or at least try to be that way." Derek's eyes snapped to my face when Scott mentioned Stiles and I alone. I swallowed, and out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Scott give a tiny smirk.

A silence fell over us, but Derek was quick to break it. "Where have you been staying, Sera?"

I gave him a sheepish look, winding a strand of dark hair around my index finger. "Oh. Um, I have an apartment on downtown, actually. Are-are you still living here?" I jerked a thumb back at the burned building.

"No," my brother said. "I've got a loft. Isaac and I have been staying there for a few months now."

I bobbed my head, fully aware of how awkward this conversation was. I had been living right under Derek's nose, probably only a few streets down from him, and he hadn't even known.

Scott rubbed the back of his neck, turning to me. "Listen, I'm sorry I was harsh on you back at the bank. But I thought you were one of them, and I wasn't about to let you slip through my fingers and hurt someone. Now that we know what's going on, we have to tell the others so they can understand, too."

My heart sank. "Tell the others? Like who?"

Allison looked confused, and so did her ex-boyfriend. "Lydia," she said.

Scott nodded in agreement, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "Yeah, Lydia. Derek can tell Isaac and Peter. And I'll talk to Stiles."

And there it was. Those five words made my heart sink and turned my resolve to dust. Desperation clawed its way up my throat, and then it was too late.

"You CAN'T tell him!" I screamed, the words pouring out of me before I could stop myself. My whole entire body was shaking. I pictured the look on Stiles' face when Scott's words reached his ears. I saw the way the light in his eyes would be extinguished; I saw the look of betrayal and disgust that would wash over his face, slowly fading into something that was hollow and unrecognizable. I couldn't bear the thought of hurting him, of losing the only person who longed for the same normalcy that I did. If Scott told Stiles the truth, everything would fall apart. I would be just another person who had let him down, and he would be just another person that I had lost. The only happiness I had found would be shattered in an instant. But that didn't matter-Stiles did. He mattered more to me than I would care to admit, and I had no idea why. Why the hell should one human boy hold my fate in the palm of his hands? Even though I had lied to him, I hadn't lied about everything. I had meant every word I had said to him at the pond. And now, it seemed like I would never have the chance to tell him that. "He can't be kept in the dark, Seraphina. It isn't fair to him, and you know it. It wasn't fair to any of us. The least you can do is let him know the truth," Scott said and Allison watched me in silence. I whirled around and slammed my fist into the nearest tree. Pain exploded through my hand, but I just gritted my teeth and savored it. Broken bones would heal. This mess that I was in wouldn't. "I'll tell him," I replied, my voice catching. "Just give me some time, Scott, and I'll tell him myself. You're right; he deserves to know the truth." I examined my bloody knuckles and raw skin, knowing that this pain would be nothing compared to what I had just promised to do.

The look Derek was giving me made me want to run for cover. My fondness for a human boy, no matter how slight, was not something he seemed to approve of. Or maybe my brother just didn't like Stiles. Whatever the reason, I ignored Derek's glare and turned to examine my hand in the moonlight. The bones were almost completely mended now, and the pain had subsided to a dull ache. I was embarrassed by the scene I had caused. Allison was watching me with curiosity gleaming in her eyes, and even Scott was watching me, a pondering look on his face.

"I'm going home," I told the trio, looking over my shoulder. I focused my gaze on Derek. "If you want, I can help you look for Boyd after school tomorrow. I know that Isaac and Peter will be with you, but if you need some more help…" My voice was tentative. I really wanted to prove myself to Derek; I wanted him to trust me again.

My brother gave a curt nod, but his eyes were softer than they had been all night. "I might take you up on that offer. Thank you."

My smile was brilliant. "My pleasure." I gave an inquiring look to Scott and Allison. "Are you guys in?" The pair looked at each other, eyes wide, a slight blush coloring both of their faces. No matter what they said, they weren't over each other. Not even close. But whatever complicated feelings were between Scott and Allison, we needed them to pull together to help catch Boyd.

"What am I supposed to tell Stiles?" Scott called as I was walking away.

I didn't even pause. "Tell him the truth. This is just a werewolf and Hunter thing."

And with that, I disappeared into the cover of the trees, thinking of my brother, the McCall pack, and the human boy that always seemed to be on my mind.

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The next day was interestingly normal. The first half of the day was a little weird because Allison and Scott seemed to stare at me constantly, then look away whenever I glanced at them. I had merely sighed upon seeing their reactions. I knew their knowledge of me was weighing heavily on their minds, but they made it very obvious with their gawking. I had sat with Scott and Stiles at lunch, laughing at stupid jokes and talking about school work. Lydia had approached me in the hallway before AP U.S. History, pinching my arm hard. When I had yelped and demanded to know what her problem was, the strawberry-blonde haired girl had huffed and said, "You didn't tell me! God, you're a badass werewolf and you don't confide that juicy piece of information to your friend?"

I had wanted to point that I really wasn't much of a badass, and I hadn't told _anyone_ my identity, not even my brother, but when Lydia called me her 'friend', my mouth had snapped shut. True, Lydia was dramatic and somewhat snotty, and had an annoying habit of pretending to be stupid when she actually wasn't, but being deemed Lydia's friend was enough to erase all of that. I was almost honored to wear that title; the Martin girl rarely called someone her friend and actually meant it. I knew we had a long way to go before we would actually be more than acquaintances, but I had smiled at Lydia and apologized, knowing that having a friend like her would be interesting. And maybe even nice.

Algebra II was my last class of the day, and it was also the only other class I had with Stiles. I was relieved as I took my seat near the back of the room, throwing A Tale of Two Cities on the desk in front of me, saving it for Stilinski. I hadn't encountered Ethan and Aiden all day. Of course, I had seen them from a distance; they were sitting with Lydia's group, Aiden pressed up against Lydia, and Ethan wedged against poor unsuspecting Danny, who had stared at the alpha with wide, awed eyes. I had warned Lydia about the twins when she had pulled me aside in the hallway, but she had merely waved her hand in dismissal. "Oh, I can handle myself, Seraphina. _And_ that overgrown puppy."

I rolled my eyes now, thinking back on Lydia's nonchalant words. She hadn't even been phased, which shouldn't have surprised me in the slightest. Lydia Martin was almost as good as hiding her emotions as my brother was, and that was saying something.

Stiles jolted me out of my thoughts when he threw his books down on the desk I had saved for him. He grinned at me, holding up my book. "Thanks, Sera." I reached for A Tale of Two Cities, but Stiles jerked his hand back before I could take it. I frowned at him. "Is this any good?" he asked, flipping through the pages with a disinterested expression on his face.

"I like it so far," I told him. Then I snatched it from his hands and clutched it close to me. "But it's definitely not for someone on your reading level," I teased.

Stiles grabbed his chest like I had just shot him. "Oh, you've wounded me! How can I go on?" Stiles stood up and staggered around for dramatic effect, making a couple girls giggle and a few boys snicker. Mr. Everett gave Stiles the stank eye, clearly not amused.

"Sit down!" I hissed, grabbing his arm when he got close enough to me. He reluctantly gave in to my request, sinking into his seat with his trademark grin still firmly in place. Everyone in the room was staring at us now. I grumbled under my breath, hearing someone say Apple Juice Girl and laugh. "God, you know how to cause a scene, don't you?" I asked, annoyance evident in my voice.

Stiles winked, leaning in inexplicably close. I could feel his cool breath on my face. "Only when I want to," he whispered.

Then he pulled back just as quickly, leaving me blinking and blushing like an idiot. I opened my book and held it front of my face. "Asshole," I seethed quietly, waiting for the warmness to fade from my cheeks.

"Heard that," he chimed, pulling my book down a bit. I groaned and closed it, giving him my full attention. "But you know how you can make it up to me?"

I rolled my eyes. "How?" I questioned, playing along.

Stiles pulled a piece of paper from one of his textbooks. "You could go to this party with me tonight."

I snatched the paper from his hands, reading over it. It was directions to someone's house and the time to arrive. "Who gave this to you?"

Stiles face scrunched up. "Uh, Ashley something? She's friends with Lydia. She wanted me to give this to you." The tips of Stiles' ears turned pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly flustered. "And she said I could come to, if I wanted, and I do want to, but I was wondering if you wanted to come with me because it would be weird if I showed up and you didn't, y'know, because this is actually your invitation and-"

"Stiles," I laughed. "You're rambling."

He gave a nervous laugh. "I guess I am."

I looked up at him from the bottom of my eyelashes, liking the turn of events. It was usually me that was flushed and embarrassed, but now Stiles was looking at me, cockiness gone, hope taking its place. I leaned forward, relishing the blotchy spots that appeared on the Stilinski boy's cheeks as I did so. "I'll come to the party."

"Wha?" he asked, pulling back so hard he knocked all of his stuff into the floor. Laughter filled the classroom as Stiles scrambled to pick up his books.

"Mr. Stilinski!" Mr. Everett barked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're about to begin class. If you and Miss Sinclair want to continue your foolishness, you can join me in detention."

"Sorry, sir," Stiles muttered, sitting back in his seat. He didn't dare turn around to shoot me a dirty look, but I could picture the scowl on his face. I chuckled.

After a few minutes of Mr. Everett spouting off equations, I leaned forward again, my lips only an inch away from Stiles' ear. "I said, I'll go to the party with you," I breathed, causing him to jump nearly a foot out of his seat. I could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and I tasted his nervousness on my tongue. "You can pick me up at nine." I leaned back, settling into my seat and feeling satisfied.

I had offered to help Derek look for Boyd tonight, but he hadn't necessarily said he needed to come. He would find me if he needed me._ Besides,_ I thought, _I'm doing everyone a favor: I'm keeping Stiles out of the line of fire for Scott, and I'm also taking his mind off of Heather Monroe being missing. It's a win-win situation._

I watched as Stiles shivered and then said in a hoarse voice: "_Damn_ it."

My grin was almost too wide for my face.

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"You look…oh wow." Those are the first words to greet me when I slip into the Jeep later that night. Stiles' eyes widened considerably. I was wearing a tight-fitting sparkly black dress with a pair of matching flats. The dress had lace sleeves and a plunging neckline that revealed a bit more of cleavage than I would have liked. It was Lydia's, but she had graciously let me borrow it when I told her I was coming to Ashley's party. Lydia had insisted that I come home with her and Allison to get ready. The two weren't going to the party because they had already planned to go ice skating, but Lydia had been all for shoving me into every dress that she owned, pinning my hair up in a hot-yet-professional-looking bun, as she called it, and adjusting my makeup until it was at her liking. Then she had drove me back home and demanded that I give her the details of every moment tomorrow at school.

I buckled my seatbelt and gave Stiles a tiny smile. "Thanks. You don't look bad yourself."

Stiles was dressed in jeans and a Ramones T-shirt, a green jacket layered over top of it. He tapped his Converse-clad foot on the floorboard anxiously. Finally, he pried his eyes from me and put the Jeep into drive, barely saying anything the whole entire way to Ashley's house. "He's going to have trouble not wrecking that piece of crap he drives," Lydia had mused. "You're a traffic accident waiting to happen."

I held onto the door handle until we eased to a stop, breathing a sigh of relief when Lydia's prediction didn't come true. Stiles hopped out of the Jeep and made his way to my side, opening my door with ease. The little gesture made my heart flutter in my chest like a caged bird. I cursed the full moon and my out-of-whack emotions, carefully stepping down from the Jeep. Stiles shut the door, and we both made our way up the driveway. The party was well under way, even though the sun hadn't even sank fully behind the trees.

Teenagers were chatting and laughing, some downing drinks and food like they would never get another chance. I saw several girls playing beer pong with a couple of the football players, including the blonde boy who had passed me that nasty note on the first day of school. I ignored them, staying close to Stiles. The inside of Ashley's house was spacious, modern…and already trashed. Red plastic cups littered the ground, a few pizza boxes were thrown haphazardly on the couches, and what looked like whip cream was smeared on the foyer wall. We walked until we were in the back yard, which was even more crowed than the front of the house. The swimming pool held more than its capacity-lacrosse boys doing back flips narrowly avoided the volleyball players who were having a competition with a slightly deflated beach ball. I saw a couple of cheerleaders on the gazebo, daintily sipping wine coolers and chatting up a storm.

Stiles moved toward the line of coolers, turning to look at me when we came close to the hot tub. "Do you want a drink?" he asked loudly, trying to be heard over the pulsing speakers above our heads. I nodded, and Stiles grinned, walking over and grabbing a cup. He filled it with punch and handed it back to me. I took a sip, and then another, enjoying the fruity tang. I knew there was alcohol in the drink; I could taste the bitter aftertaste of it. I wasn't much of a drinker-I could barely finish half a beer without wanting to vomit. But the punch was sweet and it slid down my throat easily, so I didn't complain.

Stiles and I lounged on a few lawn chairs for a while, long enough for me to finish my second cup of punch. We talked about things at school, Scott and Allison, and anything else we could think of. "Don't you want anything to drink?" I asked, warm from head to toe.

The Stilinski boy shook his head vigorously, pointing at himself. "Uh-uh. You're looking at the safest designated driver the world has ever seen, Sera."

I laughed, shaking my head. The movement made everything spin a bit. "Oh, sorry. I completely forgot. I can go get you a soda, if you want," I offered, setting my cup down on the table. I wasn't going to drink anything else but water-I drew the line at 'slightly tipsy'. Any more punch and I might spill some very dark and private things.

Stiles grinned. "Nah, I've got a Coke. But if you want…" He stood up and offered me a hand. I smiled and took it gratefully. Stiles didn't let go when I was standing up. Instead, he laced his fingers through mine. "Do you want to dance?"

I blinked, listening to the steady rhythm that was now playing over the speakers. A few couples were swaying slowly to the tempo, completely immersed in each other. I blushed and nodded, letting Stiles tug me into the center of the grass. He placed his hands on my hips gently, and I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck. His warmth spread through me, and I could feel the scalding heat of his palms searing through the thin fabric of my dress. I tried to slow my rapid breathing, but Stiles was breathing in the exact same way, so I gave up after a moment of swaying back and forth. A few stray curls tickled my face, but Stiles brushed them back. We didn't say anything for a long time, but the silence was one of the most comfortable things that I had ever experienced.

After an internal debate, I rested my head on one of Stiles' shoulders, breathing in his musky, intoxicating scent. He stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed, pulling me closer to him. Contentedness filled me, and that, paired with the alcohol I had drank, made me feel like all would be right in the world. It was a very naïve thought, but I was too happy to care. "You're not a bad dancer," I whispered.

Stiles' laugh shook my entire frame. "I don't know if I should feel flattered that you noticed or insulted that you assumed I would be terrible at dancing."

"I didn't assume anything," I protested. "I was just making an observation."

Stiles brushed another stray hair back from the nape of my neck, making me shiver. "My mother taught me a few steps when I was younger," he admitted, hands going back to rest on my hips. "She thought it would impress a girl someday. I told her she had lost her marbles, and a girl who would be impressed by my dancing ability would be crazy, but she insisted."

"Hey, now _I'm_ insulted!" I pulled back from Stiles' shoulder, putting a haughty look on my face. But it quickly disappeared when I saw him smiling down at me, dimples and all. Stiles' caramel brown eyes were as warm and as soft as I had ever seen them, holding me in place with an intensity like a new kind of gravity. The voices and music faded into the background, and then it was just Stiles and I, dancing together, inches apart. I swallowed, not able to break his gaze.

There was something about him that had drawn me in from the very moment we met, but I had been fighting it these past few days. I told myself I wanted to have a friend like Stiles, funny and caring and deeply profound when you talked with him seriously. I wanted a friend who would tease me and hang out with me, who would listen to me ramble and who wouldn't be afraid to stand beside me, even though I was different. Who would care for me and confide in me like no one else could. And in a matter of days, my wish had been granted. Stiles was my friend, but I was still longing for something. I was just now seeing what that something was, too. I stared into Stiles' eyes, but my own eyes darted down to his lips after a second, then returned to hold his gaze.

I truly was selfish. Because I didn't just want Stiles' friendship-I wanted more than that. I wanted to kiss him, to taste his emotions in a whole new way. I wanted him to hold me in his arms, to grant me with tender touches…I wanted this boy to love me.

And that thought scared me to death. Why did I care whether he knew my true identity or not? Why did his happiness matter so much to me? Why did his interest in Lydia get under my skin? The answers had been inside me all along, hidden underneath all of the false reasons-_I'm falling for him. It hasn't even been a week, and he's already found a place in my heart._ I hoped he couldn't see it in my eyes, the rush of emotion that I was feeling. Stiles leaned in closer, and my brain shot into hyper drive. _Shit! Shitshitshit! Is he going to kiss me?! Because I won't be able to stop myself if he does, I really won't…_

My breath caught in my throat. The light of the full moon cast a brilliant glow on the Stilinski boy's face, and for a second, I wondered if this was how my mother felt when she learned what my father was. She was already in too far, too deep. _I couldn't have left him if I wanted to. It was far too late for that,_ she had told me. Gazing into Stiles eyes, I could only think: _I'm doomed._

Stiles leaned in, and I closed my eyes, waiting for his lips to touch mine.

But then there was a cool pressure against my forehead, the most tender of kisses being laid there instead. Stiles lips pulled back from my head, and then he smiled down at me dazzlingly. "I'm going to go request another song," he said softly. "Wait for me?" I nodded mutely, letting my arms fall from his neck. Stiles took his hands from my waist and stepped back. His smile was still in place. "I'll be right back."

I watched him go, feeling like I was floating. For some reason, Stiles' kiss on my forehead made me feel more giddy than if he would have kissed me on the lips. It was a sign of building something, I hoped. After all, we had only known each other for a few days. I didn't expect him to make out with me or anything. I touched my forehead, wondering if the coolness from his lips was actually lingering there or if that was just my imagination. I was happy for the sweet, tender gesture. It really meant a lot to me.

A sea of bodies crowded around me when a techno song came on, but I didn't care. I stayed where I was, one hand on my forehead, a dreamy look in my eyes. I wanted to snap out of the trance Stiles had seemingly put me in. I was Hale: tough, proud, and demanding. Except that I had never really been any of those in the first place, and now I resembled more of a lovesick puppy than I did a fearsome werewolf. Luckily, the alcohol had muted my senses a bit-the emotions of this many people would nearly suffocate me, otherwise. I stood on tiptoes and searched for Stiles, but I couldn't pick him out in the mass chaos.

A tingling feeling crept up the back of my neck. I felt like I was being watched. I turned around in a circle, but no one looked or smelled suspicious. "Careful, little wolf," a silky voice said from somewhere behind me. I whirled around, my eyes searching the crowd wildly. No one was there. My breathing quickened. There was a deep laugh from somewhere around me, and then the disembodied voice said, in the same lilting accent: "You're not the only one with a few magic tricks up your sleeve."

I whirled around again, frantically searching for the speaker. I smelled the faint scent of cinnamon and sandalwood close to me, but that was all, beside the lingering smells of alcohol and sweat. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of my stomach, eating away the happiness that had just filled me a moment earlier.

Even when Stiles came back to stand beside me, my fear couldn't be eased.

Whoever had spoken to me knew who I was… They knew my secret.

**You guys have been amazing! 20 reviews this time, pretty please with sprinkles on top? (Hope you liked the Stilaphina feels!)**


	9. Chapter 8

**Hey, guys. Well, to say I'm angry is an understatement. I'm actually furious right now. Why, you may ask? We were having a huge thunderstorm and my power went out while I was typing. I know what you're thinking: why were you typing during a thunderstorm, idiot? I wanted to get this chapter up ASAP, so I took a chance. I mean, I saved the thing like every five minutes, so it should have been there when I went back to the file. But something happened to my computer, and there IS no file. I was about 1/3 of the way through the chapter, so I'm really angry right now. But enough of my ranting. I just want to inform you guys that after this chapter, the next update is going to be a while. I'm going on my trip to Europe in a few days (squee!) and after that, I'm going to band camp for a week. (Literally, it's the day I get back from my trip overseas.) So I just want to apologize in advance for the wait. I hope you won't lose your love during the time we spend apart. (P.S.-Tonight's episode of Teen Wolf scared the hell out of me AND made me cry. When Stiles called Scott his brother and stepped into that gasoline with him, I lost it. *sniffle* Are the writers trying to kill me?)**

_If you need to fall apart_

_I can mend a broken heart_

_If you need to crash and then crash and burn_

_You're not alone_

_-Crash and Burn, by Savage Garden_

**Chapter 8: For Every Heart**

By the time midnight came around, I was curled up on the loveseat in my apartment, a thick wool quilt wrapped tightly around my shoulders. My curls were plastered to the side of my face with a cold sweat, and my eyes were somewhat unfocused as I stared at the T.V. Some pointless sitcom was on; my sluggish mind couldn't even process what was happening with all the screaming the characters were doing. With an aggravated sigh, I flipped the T.V. off and leaned back against the plush cushions, closing my eyes.

After my enlightening dance with Stiles and the chilling encounter I'd had with the disembodied voice, my nerves were shot. I was both physically and mentally drained, and the alcohol I had in my system wasn't helping matters. I didn't feel sick to my stomach, but my mind was slowly churning with nervous thoughts. I could still hear the silky voice bouncing around inside my skull.

I had been trying to analyze it ever since Stiles and I had hopped back into the Jeep, but I wasn't having much luck. The voice had been unfamiliar and distinctly male, with a deep, resonating tone that was laced with ice. I had also detected some kind of accent. Irish, maybe? Or could it have been British?

Massaging my temples, I tried to direct my thoughts elsewhere. Getting worked up wouldn't help anything; in fact, it would just make things worse, including my splitting headache. I pulled my knees up to my chest and bit my lip. My day had been going so well up until that unwelcome intrusion, and I was furious that my good mood had been dissolved. _Whoever was speaking to me knew just how to get under my skin. They found me when I was at my most vulnerable and took advantage of the situation. And they also know that I'm a wolf, and that I can perform magic…_

I was ripped out of my musings when I heard a band from the next room. I jumped to my feet, blanket falling to the floor. Fear bubbled up inside of me, but I pressed it back as my eyes darted around my dark living quarters. My instincts willed me forward, and I slowly crept into the entryway, knowing that the noise had come from this direction. Nails sharpening and eyes glowing golden, I let a warning growl slip from between my teeth, low and formidable. The alcohol had muted my senses, but I could clearly detect a presence outside my door. Tonight's mood had been going downhill slowly but surely… Another bang resounded through the air, and my lips pulled back, revealing long, deadly canines.

A sudden deafening crash sent me skittering backward, and my growl quickly turned into a snarl. My eyes darted to my door; it had nearly been ripped clean off its hinges. In the darkness of the hallway, a large and foreboding shadow loomed. My sight wasn't at its best, but I managed to calculate the mass of the person somewhat efficiently. The shadow was taller and broader than I was, and I knew I would have my hands full if we were to fight. My snarl became fiercer, more intimidating. I wanted the threat to know that they were on my territory now, and I would not be lenient with an intrusion to my home. I crouched, ready to spring. And then the shadow moved forward into the dim light above my door, revealing…

"_Isaac_? What the hell?!" My voice was incredulous, holding a decent amount of confusion. I straightened from my defensive stance immediately.

Sure enough, Isaac Lahey himself stood in my doorway. He was incredibly tall and broad-shouldered, his blue eyes wide as he gaped at me. His hand was still raised, knuckles white, as if he had been knocking. A sheepish look came over his ghostly pale face as he examined the damaged door. "Ahh…damn full moon," he muttered. "I always forget to be gentle."

I shifted back until I was fully human, crossing my arms over my chest with a glare. I hated changing during a full moon; reverting back to human was far harder, and my bloodlust spiked tremendously. Isaac had scared the hell out of me for no reason. I pointed an accusing finger at my door. "You," I said, fuming, "can explain this to my landlord." I pulled him into the entryway and closed the damaged portal as best as I could, not wanting to catch any attention. The neighbors were probably wondering about the noise, and if I gave them any reason to come out, they would surely report a domestic disturbance. I turned around and glared at the Lahey boy.

Isaac ran his hand through his golden brown hair and continued to stare at me, unabashed. I pushed my shoulders back and held up my head high. With the scene he had just witnessed, the beta would think I was some defenseless female. But I was a beta of pride and strength, and I had powerful werewolf blood running through my veins to prove it. The Hales were Ancients, and had been treated with dignity and respect ever since we had been deemed so. I wouldn't let a mere pup look at me like I was easily breakable. Even if I was.

But Isaac's stare didn't hold pity or contempt-he was simply curious to the point of annoyance. "So it's true," he murmured, voice hushed. "You're Derek's sister." I gave an exasperated sigh and nodded. Since I had moved back to Beacon Hills, I had spoken with Isaac only a handful of times. Like Erica, Boyd, and I, he had been socially awkward and fairly quiet, never standing out much. But the few conversations we'd had-albeit them being timid and impersonal-were pleasant.

Yet the boy was looking at me now as if he had never met me, like I was some kind of wonder to behold. It was close to the look Scott and Allison had been giving me all day, besides the fact that their stares had been a lot more cautious. By now, though, I was sick of being looked at like I was something immensely special. Or immensely dangerous. I knew the Lahey boy was still trying to wrap his mind around me being related to Derek Hale, but the buzzing in my head and my door hanging crookedly off its hinges made it hard for me to be sympathetic to his shock.

"What are you doing here, Isaac?" The annoyance had drained out of my voice, but my voice held a tired edge now.

Isaac continued to eye me, but his embarrassment became more profound as he took in my disheveled appearance. My hair was matted, my makeup was probably smeared, and my skin-tight black dress was hiked up higher on my thighs than I would have cared for the other beta to see. I yanked it down hastily, trying to keep some decency. "Uh, sorry. Did I-did I interrupt something?"

My eyebrows shot up. I wanted to punch Isaac a couple of times for his ridiculous attempt at conversation, but instead, I gave him a snide look. "Oh, _yeah,_" I said, waving around my hand nonchalantly. "I was just sexing up Johnny Depp in the other room, but no biggie. He prefers threesomes anyway, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you came in."

Isaac's face contorted in confusion. "Are you using _sarcasm _right now?"

I closed my eyes, wit dispersing. "Oh, for the love of… Yes, yes, I was. But since I can tell it went right over your head, I'll ask again: why are you here?

The Lahey boy leaned against my doorframe, shoulders sagging. His lips were tightly pursed. After a moment's pause, he said: "We found Boyd."

I blinked in surprise, worry coursing through me. Something was off about the way he had said it. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Well, it would be if he hadn't caused so much trouble. He tried to kill to little kids that were playing in the woods, but Scott managed to hold him off and save them in time."

I gave him a horrified look.

"Then Derek, Scott, Peter, Allison and I lured him into the school and locked him in the boiler room where he'll be contained until sunrise.

Isaac's emotions dripped down my throat, distress the dominating feeling. I knew there was more to the story; the boy's expression told me so.

"If everyone's fine, then why do you have that look on your face?" My voice was soft.

Isaac stared at his feet. "The boiler room-it wasn't empty. One of the teachers had stayed late after school to grade some papers, and she needed supplies to restock the teacher's lounge…Ms.-Blake, I think?" I saw the English teacher in my head, her face terrified after the bird fiasco that had happened in her classroom. "Is she alright?" I questioned, afraid of the answer.

"Yeah, she's not injured, if that's what your asking. Derek got her out of there, but…she saw him shift."

My eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Oh, shit."

"Exactly. Derek's handling it, though. Scott and Peter are watching the boiler room, and Allison is guarding the school from the outside. Just in case." Isaac still wouldn't meet my eyes.

"But that's not what's bothering you," I clarified, sensing the deep uneasiness that was welling up inside of him. His fear was almost suffocating.

"No." Isaac swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. His face was drained once again of color. "There's…something else." He took a step back and jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. His solemn demeanor unnerved me. I pulled open the ruined door and followed him out into the slightly cool September air. My bare feet were cold against the concrete, and I kept close to Isaac, eyes darting around to make sure we didn't have any company. Miraculously, it seemed like my neighbors hadn't heard the banging, or if they did, they could care less about it. I rolled my eyes, nearly running into Isaac's back as he jerked to a stop. His body went rigid; I could see the muscles bunched in his neck, the way his shoulders were set…

"Isaac…?" He stepped out of the way, revealing the staircase that he had been staring at so intently, horror written in every line of his face.

I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

The body of a human girl lay on the steps at our feet.

"Oh my God," I moaned. "Oh my God."

The girl had been beautiful: high cheek bones, full lips, and long lashes adorned her face. But her skin had taken on the pale and slightly waxy look that was so often associated with death, and it marred her beauty. She was dressed in a black dress with floral print on the bust, a pair of muddy heels strapped onto her feet. Upon closer inspection, I saw the bruises on her ankles and wrists, which were a sign of capture. Someone had tied the poor girl up. I shuddered as I took in her glassy, pale blue eyes and slack mouth-her expression was one of shock, a clear indication that her death had come swiftly and by surprise. I didn't trust myself to take my hand away from my mouth; I could still feel a scream buried inside of me, ready to come to the surface. I knelt down next to the girl, examining her up close. Her blonde waves fanned around her head, covered in dirt and blood. And then I saw what killed her. Bile rose in my throat as I stared at the three deep gashes on the girl's neck. They were precise cuts, curving along her jugular. They weren't the marks of a knife either; they were…claw marks. Recognition slapped me in the face a second later. How had I not realized it before? I had seen the girl's Missing posters all over town, and now here she was, lying before me: Heather Monroe.

"Seraphina." Isaac's voice was soft, scared. I turned to look at him, still in shock. He was pointing at Heather's corpse. Or rather… I followed his finger with my gaze. He wasn't pointing at Heather's body, but what was resting on her chest, folded neatly: a pristine piece of white paper. And written on that piece of paper in swirling black ink…was my name. I inhaled sharply. Fingers trembling, I took the piece of paper and carefully unfolded it. Isaac stood behind me, shifting from foot to foot and casting wary glances over his shoulder. I knew I should have went back inside of my apartment, but I was rooted to the spot, my eyes glued on the paper in my hands. I slowly unfolded it and began to read:

_I knew you would find Miss Monroe before anyone else, my dear. I knew that you wouldn't disappoint me. You see, though her death may seem cruel and unjust, she was just a pawn in a much larger game. A pawn that was, unfortunately, easily disposable. Heather's death provided a good way to catch your attention, Seraphina. I don't aimlessly kill; in fact, everything I do has a purpose. I know things now that I didn't before, and it seems as though your secret…is no longer really a secret, is it? You've thrown all caution to the wind, and I've come to find that I admire you for that. I decided that it was time for my pack and I to do the same. So here is my offer, dear girl: you will seek me out and hear what I have to say, or every day that you hide from me, I will kill one unsuspecting human. You will come alone, or your friends will suffer. Do just as I ask, and I will see to it that no one else is harmed because of you. After all, I don't think you could take much more guilt, Seraphina. I shall see you soon._

~_D.D._

I scrambled backward, tears blurring my vision. The note fluttered from my hand and fell uselessly beside me. I felt hollow as I stared at Heather's body. Her blank eyes were wide, but suddenly, they also looked accusing. I hadn't even known the girl, but her eyes seemed to say, _I'm dead because of you. _If I had felt horrified before, it was nothing compared to what I felt now. I pushed myself to my feet, gasping for breath, and stared at the corpse before me. Every fiber in my body ached for that innocent girl, a girl that had been killed because of my secrets and mistakes. Whatever the reason, the alpha pack had taken an interest in me. And now it was my job to find their leader and ensure that no other innocent lives were taken on my behalf.

I gritted my teeth and wiped my eyes hastily, not wanting the beta behind me to sense weakness. Isaac picked up my letter from the ground and read over it, his eyes narrowing the longer he read. When he finished, he crushed the note in his fist. I looked up at him, refusing to cry. His blue eyes were gentle, though, and they held no judgement. Isaac placed a warm hand on my shoulder, not saying anything. It was comforting to know that someone was there with me, that they didn't blame me for what had happened to Heather. After a long moment of silence, the boy sighed. "It's not your fault, Seraphina. Deucalion uses manipulation to get what he wants. He may have taken my memories, but I remember that much."

I stared at him. "Deucalion? Is he the leader?"

Isaac gave a reluctant nod. "Yes. Even though they're alphas, he ranks over the others. Something about him…is different. He's more powerful. You can just tell."

I shivered, biting my lip. "He knew just what to say to get to me."

Isaac ran a hand through his hair, frustration shown clearly on his face. "He's not going to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter. As soon as Derek hears about this-"

I grabbed the Lahey boy's arm. "He's not going to hear about this."

Isaac gave me a blank look. "What?"

"Derek can't know," I said firmly. "It will only make everything worse."

Isaac's expression turned incredulous. "You're not going to _tell _him? That doesn't make any sense! If you go to Deucalion willingly, with no one to help you, who knows what he'll do… That's not a good idea, Seraphina. You can't trust him-"

"I'm sorry," I said, cutting him off. "But I can't risk anyone else getting hurt. Deucalion told me to come alone, and if I don't someone else is going to get killed! He just wants to talk to me, Isaac."

Isaac's face turned bright red. "He _killed Erica_," he hissed, eyes narrowing. "He killed that girl!" He flung his hand to point at Heather's corpse. I winced. "And you think just because he says he wants to talk, that he's not going to hurt you?"

I glared up at Isaac, who easily towered over me by several inches. "It's not your decision to make. I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me." I swallowed. "Why do you care, anyway? You don't even know me, not really."

Isaac met my stare evenly. "You're right; I don't. But I know Derek, and I know how much he cares about you, even if he won't say it to my face. He seemed…happier last night. Like a weight had been taken off of his shoulders. I know it was because of you, Seraphina. Because he found out you're alive. I don't want to ruin that for him, and I know you don't either. Even if I don't really know you, you're apart of our pack now, and I have a duty to my pack, whether you like it or not."

I frowned, wanting to say something but not able to find the words.

"I know you think that you have to do this by yourself. But you don't. There are other people willing to help you now. You don't have to do this alone."

I blinked, watching as Isaac's level look turned almost pleading. I felt bad for him, I really did. He was an orphan now, like I was, and he didn't have anyone but his pack. I had Derek, and, dare I say it, Peter. Isaac was just looking out for me because he felt like it was his obligation. He needed to protect the people he had left in his life.

"Fine."

It was Isaac's turn to blink. "You're really agreeing with me?"

I shook my head. "No. I meant, fine, you can come with me. I'm not getting everyone else involved in this, but since you already know, I guess it wouldn't be so bad to have some backup. You have to keep a safe distance, though, or the alphas will be able to sense you. Oh, and maybe if I put a temporary Masking charm on you, that could-"

"Hey!" The Lahey boy exclaimed. "That's not what I meant. We have to tell-"

My hard look made him give an exasperated sigh. "Derek is going to kill me."

I rolled my eyes. "That's why we're not going to tell the others a word. Right?"

Isaac looked like he wanted to punch the wall. "Yeah, right." His eyes trailed down, and he went pale yet again. "What are we going to do about her?" he asked softly, nodding to Heather's prone body.

I swallowed, instantly becoming solemn again. I had nearly forgotten about the poor girl. "We leave her here until morning," I said quietly. Isaac's eyebrows rose. "If we call the police tonight, it's going to seem even more suspicious. They'll wonder what a seventeen year old girl is doing out of her apartment at this time of night," I explained. "I'll make sure I wake up extra early and call the police. I hate to leave her here, but I don't really want to be accused of murder on top of the threat I just got from the alphas."

Isaac nodded. "I understand." He looked up at the ceiling, blue eyes tired. "God, this has been some night, huh?"

Memories of Stiles lips on my forehead, the disembodied voice from the party, and Heather's dead body flashed through my mind. "You have no idea," I muttered.

"I'll…let you get some sleep then, Seraphina. Boyd and I are coming back to school tomorrow, so if you need me, you know where to find me." He turned to leave, and then froze and looked over his shoulder. "And-don't go looking for the alphas by yourself, okay? For some reason, you seem like the type to do that."

"Gee," I said, almost sheepish, "whatever gave you that impression?"

Isaac gave a half smile. "Just a hunch. Goodnight, Seraphina."

"'Night, Isaac," I whispered, watching him retreat down the stairs. After he was merely a speck in the distance, I once again turned my gaze on Heather. Sadness overwhelmed me. I understood why Isaac was so desperate to protect me and everyone else: he was tired of seeing people hurting, tired of seeing loss. We shared that in common. Heather was just another unfortunate person who had been used for someone else's agenda. I gritted my teeth at the thought of Deucalion's words. "I'm so sorry," I murmured. "I'll make sure that nothing like this ever happens again. I promise." Then I walked back into my apartment.

I wouldn't get any sleep tonight, but not only because the gruesome image of Heather was printed in my mind. My door was still broken, and around a crime scene, that would cause some suspicion. I sighed and walked over to the junk door in the kitchen, rummaging around until I found the necessary tools to fix the damage.

It was time to get to work.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Seraphina? Um, heeelllloo?"

I jerked my head up, eyes snapping open. My breathing was ragged.

Lydia stared at me. "Were you falling asleep? I mean, I figured you were tired, what with those awful bags under your eyes, but you almost let your head drop into the school chili. Seems pretty serious."

I gave a tiny laugh and straightened in my seat, gazing around the lunch table. Lydia wasn't the only one staring at me. Everyone's eyes, including Allison's, were locked on me. I rubbed my temples and swallowed. I guess I couldn't really blame them.

I hadn't really slept more than an hour last night. I was worried about what was going to happen when the police learned of Heather's murder, and also about what Deucalion had said to me, which didn't make a very soothing conversation. In fact, as soon as the clock had struck 6:05 this morning, I had called 911, finally bursting into tears. I blubbered about finding a dead girl on the apartment steps when I had gone to take out the trash, and I gave them my address immediately afterward. The police had asked me several questions, but had been surprisingly gently with me because of my living situation and emotional condition. While I had been the first witness, many other people in my building admitted to hearing strange noises, and they also gave their statements to the officers. I had been free to go to school, but I had been asked to come speak with the sheriff later in the day. I didn't really have a problem with that; Sheriff Stilinski seemed like a kind man, and I knew he just wanted to probe me for as much information as possible. After all, the Stilinskis and the Monroes had been family friends.

The news of Heather's murder had spread through the school like wildfire, and it only seemed to add to the appeal that Apple Juice Girl had found her body. Everyone had been giving me looks that ranged from curious to sympathetic to downright horrified, so I didn't really know what to say to Lydia's comment. Lydia was always blunt with things, on the borderline of being rude, but I could see a decent amount of concern in her eyes as she continued to stare at me. I knew her behavior was partially force of habit, so I took comfort in the worried look she shot me. "I'm fine," I assured her. "Just a bit…"

Ashley, who was sitting next to me, patted my arm in sympathy. "Oh, hun, we understand. You had a-" she frowned, thinking of the right word, "_rough_ morning."

Chelsea glared at her. "It was a little more than rough, Ash. Way to be insensitve."

Ashley turned up her nose, tossing her glossy hair over her shoulder. "Hey, I was just trying to be nice, Chelsea. No one else was saying anything, so I just figured-"

"C'mon, girls," sai Kyle with a nervous chuckle. "There's no need to get worked up." He shot Danny a look that said, _Man, back me up here before I get killed._

Danny simply nodded in agreement, and Ellie rolled her eyes.

"Kyle's right," piped a voice from the edge of the table. I looked over in surprise. Allison was staring at all of us, her face calm. "Everything is already awful enough. There's no need to fight." Allison shot me a small, tentative smile. I blinked and gave her an equally shy smile back. I knew this was her way of trying to get on better terms with me, and I admired her for that. It would take me a while to get used to the idea of being around her after what Kate did to my family, but I thought that being friends with Allison would be…nice. She wasn't bossy and demanding like Lydia, and she seemed really sweet. Even if she was trained to be a lethal werewolf killer, I didn't figure it would hurt to try to make her one of my allies.

Ashley and Chelsea muttered apologies to one another, but they hardly sounded sincere. "Besides," said Ellie after a moment. "Some people are suffering worse than even Seraphina. That Stilinski boy was taking it pretty hard."

I winced at that. I couldn't even bear to turn around and look at where Stiles and Scott were sitting. I had tried to talk to Stiles this morning, but he was quiet and withdrawn. He had given me feeble smiles and had tried to be apart of the conversation I had with Scott, but he stumbled over his words and eventually gave up. I could see the hollowness in his eyes, and it made me want to wrap my arms around him and squeeze. I wanted to see him smile and laugh, but his grief was too deep for that right now. I decided the best thing I could do at the moment was give him some space and hope that he was alright. I understood how he was feeling all too well, and I knew that I shouldn't push his boundaries. He would talk to me when he was ready. Or, at least, I hoped that he would.

I propped my head on my hand and heaved a sigh. Things always had to be complicated. I heard rumbling laughter behind me, and with a sinking feeling in my heart, I knew that things were about to get even more complicated.

The alpha twins took the empty seats at the table, and were met mostly with grins. Lydia sniffed indifferently, as though Aiden's presence didn't matter to her in the slightest. She was offended that he hadn't revealed his true identity to her, and that she had been conned into thinking he was cute. Allison gave both of the boys a stony glare and turnd back to her food like they didn't exist. The others began to chat with Ethan and Aiden, though, and they seemed oblivious to the tension between us. The twins kept shootinng me smug smirks, and I had to grip the edge of the table just so I wouldn't launch myself at them. I knew that they had some part in Heather's murder, and it infuriated me that I couldn't tell anyone what I knew. I had already pulled Scott, Allison, and Lydia aside this morning and explained my 'theory'-I was careful to leave out the part about Deucalion's note and the threat that it contained. They had agreed that the twins needed to be watched closely, and that the leader of the alphas needed to be found immediately.

Aiden continued to try to catch Lydia's attention, but the cold shoulder she as throwing him seemed almost impenetrable. Ashley was flirting with him ridiculously, though, and he seemed to be soaking up her attention. Ethan, on the other hand, was speaking quietly with Danny, a serious look on his face. Danny was watching him, rapt, and grated on my nerves worse than Aiden's failed attempt to seduce Lydia. Lydia at least had a fairly good idea what was going on, and she was incredibly smart when it came to guarding herself. Danny, however, was a sweetheart, and he had no idea that his emotions were being toyed with.

I opened and closed my hands. God, what I wouldn't give to throttle the twins…Then a tiny, evil smile found its way to my lips, and I knew what to do. I closed my eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and muttered: _revelaret, dimittere, et resumere._

I was thankful for Ophelia's brief teaching of Latin, and I repeated the words in my head in English: reveal, release, and resume. They were the three words that would completely strip away the complicated Masking charm I had performed.

Ethan and Aiden's heads whipped around, and both of them stared at me in shock. They knew I was a wolf; Deucalion had made that perfectly clear to them, I could already tell. But somehow, they thought I was still in the dark about them being alphas. They must have honestly thought Scott wouldn't tell me, or that I couldn't tell myself, which was ridiculous. Ever since I was young, my senses had always been strong than most other wolves. My ability to sense emotions was a sign of that, but my hearing and sense of smell had been decently affected as well. It was priceless to see the twins' reactions; they were utterly surprised that I had just bared myself to them so completely, and they were at a loss for words. It was my turn to give them a smug smile.

Everyone had settled into easy conversation again, but I was officially done talking. And by the looks of it, so was Allison. I stood up from the table and gave Lydia and the rest of the group a bright smile, although it felt rubbery on my face. I could only hope it didn't seem that way. "I'll see you guys later." Lydia gave a small frown but, miraculously, said nothing. I could tell that she understood why I wanted to leave.

"I'll come with you," Allison said quietly, standing up to go empty her tray with me. The brunette stalked away from the table before I even had a chance to move. I followed her over to the trash can, a question in my eyes. "I know you're worried about Stiles," she said plainly. I blushed a little, but Allison didn't seem to notice, or she didn't seem to mind. "He's taking this pretty hard, and he knows that the alphas have something to do with Heather's death. I'm surprised he didn't try to attack the twins on the spot."

"Well, that would cause a problem," I said dryly.

Allison set her tray on the counter and turned to face me. Her brown eyes were very serious. "He would have every right to, but he's smarter than that." She gave a tiny smile and looked into the distance. Her voice was soft as she said, "Scott is the more impulsive one. Stiles is the voice of reason, I guess you could say. He babbles a lot, but actually, when he wants to, he makes a lot of sense. He's pretty reasonable to have werewolf for a best friend."

I laughed at that. "He is, isn't he?" I swiveled around and looked at where the boys were sitting. Scott, Stiles, Isaac, and Boyd were all huddled together at Scott and Stiles' usual table. Scott and Isaac were deep in conversation, gesturing with their hands. Boyd watched them, brow furrowed, as they spoke. And Stiles sat completely still, body rigid. His jaw was set, and from his spot beside Scott, he shot Isaac a dirty look. I could feel the jealousy and hurt rolling off of him in waves, and I inhaled sharply.

"Oh, no," I muttered, staring at the boys. Scott and Isaac were trying to come up with a solution to the alpha problem, leaving Stiles to his thoughts, but the Stilinski boy wanted someone to talk to, even though he was hurting. Jealousy bubbled up in him as he watched his best firend and Isaac converse, and he felt completely betrayed and alone. Scott was supposed to be working out a plan with _him, _talking to _him…_Not Isaac. Isaac wasn't his best friend. Isaac didn't need him right now likie Stiles did. At least, that's what I could gather from the strong emotions he was feeling.

"Call it wolf instinct," I said to Allison, "but I think if we don't go over to the table soon, Stiles is going to say some things he'll regret later."

Allison opened her mouth to question me, but I was already making my way through the crowded cafeteria. I didn't have the patience to explain my gift to her at the moment. Hell, not even the members of my family had known what I was able to do. I had tried to tell them when I was younger, but they claimed my stories were fantasy, and no one had ever given it a second glance. It was the one secret that had always been just mine, and I intended to keep it that way for the time being.

I got several looks as I passed by the lunch tables, but no one said anything to me, which I took as a good sign. As I approached Scott's table, Allison hot on my heels, the boys all stopped talking and looked at me. Scott gave me a curious look, Isaac gave a little frown, Boyd pursed his lips, and Stiles' brow furrowed. Not the overall reaction I was expecting, but oh well. I took the empty seat next to Stiles, and Allison followed my lead, plopping down next to Isaac. There was a moment od awkward silence between all of us, and then Scott cleared his throat. "Uh, hey, Allison. Seraphina."

I gave him a tiny smile, and Allison did the same. Stiles glanced over at me, indecision in his eyes. I could tell he didn't want to make a big scene in front of me, not only because he thought I didn't know about werewolves (the irony), but also because he didn't want to seem like a tremendous jerk. I pressed my knee against his momentarily under the table and said so only he could hear: "Are you alright?"

Stiles swallowed. There was so much emotion pouring off of him that I nearly drowned in it. "No, not really," he admitted, voice tight. "But I will be."

"Stiles…" My voice was pleading. "If you want to talk-"

"My dad was wondering," he said, completely cutting me off, "if you would come over today. He figured it would be a bit easier questioning you at our house where it would be-quiet and more private for all of us. Unless you would be uncomfortable with that," he added quickly. "Then I'm sure he would be fine with doing it at the station. I ean, whichever is best for you-"

I nearly smiled at Stiles' rambling. He almost sounded like himself, and that eased my worry a little. "That sounds fine," I told him. "Would you mind if I caught a ride home with you?"

Stiles blinked a couple times. "What? Oh. Oh, yeah, that's fine! Yeah."

I bit my lip. _Okay, he's not acting like himself at all. Wishful thinking._

Scott cleared his throat. "So…how was the party last night, guys?"

I grimaced, my cheeks turning bright red, and Stiles shot Scott a glare that would have put Derek to shame. I gazed down at my hands where they were folded on the table. _God, Scott, I know you're trying to lighten the mood, but honestly, you're making everything a million times worse._

"I had fun," I offered, looking at Stiles out of the corner of my eye. "Stiles is really good at dancing."

Apparently I said the right thing, because a ghost of a smile came over the boy's lips. "I think you have a skewed definition of the word 'good'."

I gave a small, tentative chuckle.

Scott looked back and forth between the both of us, fascination evident. "Cool. Um, Seraphina, this is Isaac and Boyd." I gave Scott a look, but his eyes asked me to play along for Stiles benefit.

"Oh, we've met," I informed him. "We had a couple classes together last year." Isaac gave me a smile that only I understood, and Boyd just simply stared at me.

Boyd got up from the table and let out a huge sigh. "Well, I've had enough of this," he muttered. And then he turned around and walked away.

Allison raised an eyebrow, and Scott seemed confused. Stiles looked affronted. "Geez, that guy's about as friendly as they come. Any friendlier and the world might stop spinning." Stiles' voice didn't hold any humor.

_O-o-kay. This is going to be an interesting day._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX_

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. I went to class, but my mind wasn't really there. It had been a relatively calm day, and I was slowly becoming accustomed to the pattern of school again. Last year had been far easier, I had to admit. But last year I had sat on the sidelines, letting everyone else deal with the problems in Beacon Hills. And now, I was right in the middle of the chaos. School was like the eye of the storm for me, in a way. When I was there, everything seemed mildly normal. When I wasn't…all hell seemed to break loose.

By the time Stiles and I got into the Jeep, I was so tired that I had problems not falling asleep on the window. Eyes bleary, I watched the landscape pass by without a word. Stiles didn't seem like he was in the talking mood, so I kept silent. The silence between us wasn't awkward, although it should have been. There was something comfortable about it, almost relaxing. It was like all of our words and feelings were swimming around us in the open air, and we could almost see one another's thoughts. Or maybe that was just our empathetic ability kicking in; I wasn't really sure.

When we pulled into the Stilinski's driveway, I put my arms over my head and stretched, giving a yawn that wasn't even close to lady-like. Stiles parked the Jeep beside his dad's police cruiser and looked over at me, caramel eyes full of concern. "Did you not sleep last night? You've been kind of out of it all day."

I nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah. I had nightmares last night. And then this morning-" I shivered, mind flashing back to Heather's body. I had hoped her death had been all a dream, but when I had walked out into the hall, she was still lying there.

"I understand," Stiles said with a sympathetic look. "It must have been horrible."

"It was," I whispered. Then I pulled the handle on my door and pushed it open, jumping out after I grabbed my bag. Stiles followed me as I made my way up the driveway and walked up the steps. I felt weird standing there, about to enter someone else's house. Shyly, I took a step back and let Stiles open the front door. "Dad!" he called, his voice lacking enthusiasm. "I'm home!"

I stepped over the threshold and was immediately welcomed by the smell of something burning. I wrinkled my nose as I kicked off my shoes by the door. Stiles rolled his eyes as he tried not to gag. "Dammit, it smells like he's cooking again. Hold on a minute, Sera." Stiles didn't even give me time to reply; he ran off to what I presumed was the kitchen. I stood there by the door for a moment, shifting from foot to foot. After a few seconds I finally got brave enough to wander into the living home. It wasn't very big, but it had the same homey look that the exterior of the house had boasted of. There was an over-stuffed blue couch shoved into the corner, a Oriental rug on the floor, and a large T.V. that wa mounted on the wall slightly crooked. A coffee table was pushed up close to an orange armchair a few feet away, and it was covered in mail, newspapers, and what seemed to be police reports. A small fireplace was by the large couch, but it didn't show signs of use: it was perfectly bare and un-sooty. Above the fireplace, on the mantle, were pictures. I walked closer, wanting to get a better look.

There were several photos of Stiles as a child: he was toothless in one, holding up a T-ball trophy as he sat on his father's shoulders; in another, his hair was shaggy and un-gelled, and he had his arm around Scott, who still had the same crooked smile and chocolately eyes I knew-they looked around eleven; the next one showed Stiles as a toddler. He had chubby cheeks, and he was wrapped up in the arms of a beautiful woman. Her dimpled smile and bright, teasing eyes were familiar to me, as were her high cheekbones and thin lips. Stiles looked a lot alike her. Her auburn hair was the only significant difference, but it seemed to add to her pale face and make her seem even lovelier. I reached out a hand and touched the picture, tracing the outline of the woman with my finger tips. The woman looked like she was trying not to laugh as she held baby Stiles aloft, but her eyes had betrayed her. She seemed so full of love, so alive-much like my mother used to.

"That's my mom." I whirled around to see Stiles standing behind me. His eyes were trained on the picture, and a tiny, sad smile was on his lips.

"She's very beautiful," I told him truthfully, my voice quiet. "You look just like her."

His eyes found mine. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said with a gentle laugh.

I grabbed his hand, taking him by surprise. "Good. Because I meant it as one." We stayed in silence like that for a few moments, Stiles' warm, rough hand in my own.

"She died six days before my tenth birthday." Eyes wide, I looked up at him. Stiles had the same faraway look that he had worn at the pond on his face. "Breast cancer. When they told us…" he drew in a shaky breath. "I didn't understand. I thought she could get treatment. My great-aunt had the same kind of cancer, and she came out of it just fine. But mom…" He looked over at the picture in front of us. "She was already too far gone. There was nothing they could do."

The pain in his voice made me ache inside. "I'm sorry," I whispered, squeezing his hand. And it wasn't one of the empty apologies someone gave when a loved one passed away-my words really meant something. I had experienced Stiles' pain; I knew his sorrow. My family had disappeared in a blink of an eye, but watching someone waste away day by day, knowing that they're dying…I couldn't even imagine how that must have felt. I could sense the strength in the boy beside me, and though his mother's death still haunted him, and though Heather's murder had shaken his very foundation, I knew he would pull out of this. He was resilient to the point of impossibility, and I admired him for that. Stiles had given me a reason to rise above my past, and now, I wanted to be his.

"Sorry, that spaghetti shouldn't have burned. I specifically bought a non-stick pan-" Stiles and I dropped hands and turned to look at his father. Sheriff Stilinski looked the same as before: he thin brown hair and kind eyes, but instead of the stern expression he had been wearing at the school, he had a weary smile on his lips.

"You still have to watch the food, Dad," Stiles sighed. "Even if the pan's non-stick."

The sheriff's tired smile seemed to brigten a bit when his eyes locked on me. He wiped off his hands on the back of his jeans and offered me one. "Ah, so you must be Sera. It's nice to meet you."

Stiles cleared his throat. "It's Seraphina, Dad. I just call her Sera sometimes…" His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

I elbowed him in the side before the sheriff could reply. "It's alright, sir. You can call me Sera. It's a pleasure to meet you, too." I sent Stiles a pointed look as I shook his father's hand, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Mr. Stilinski watched the scene with an amused smirk on his face. "Well, then. I'll just cut straight to the chase." The sheriff locked me in the eyes, his face turning very serious. I felt my stomach plummet to somewhere in my toes. _Oh, here comes the dreaded interrogation…_ "Do you know anything about cooking pasta?"

A surprised laugh fell from my lips. Stiles slapped a hand over his face and muttered a few curses under his breath. "Yes, sir. Do you need help with anything?"

"Don't ask that!" Stiles pleaded. "You'll end up cooking for us!"

I laughed again, thankful that the sheriff had taken Stiles' mind off of Heather. He gave me a wink, and my grin only widened. I instantly liked the man from then on. "As a matter of fact, I sort of ruined dinner, Sera. Do you think you and Stiles would have any better luck cooking? I hate to sound like I'm asking you to wait on me, but burnt spaghetti…isn't that delicious."

I bobbed my head. "Don't worry, Sheriff. Stiles and I can handle dinner, and then you can ask me the questions you need to." My voice was calm and even. I turned and grabbed Stiles' arm. "C'mon, it's cooking time, Stilinski. Hope you look good in an apron." I grinned widely and dragged him with me to the kitchen. Stiles sent his father a posinous glare and followed me, grumbling all the way.

When we got into the kitchen, the foul scent of burnt food hit me like a freight train. "Ugh, throw this out." I plugged my nose and motioned to the black mess in the sink. Stiles happily obliged, grabbing the still-smoldering pan and setting it out on the back porch. "Now," I said importantly, hands on my hips, "let's get to work."

I pulled out spaghetti noodles from the pantry, also grabbing a two cans of thick sauce. I rummaged around for a while in the cabinets above the sink until I found some spices that would give the meal a bit of a kick, and then I placed all the ingredigents side by side, waiting for the water to boil. The noodles didn't take very long; I added the meat after they were done, throwing in a couple spices while it simmered. After mixing in the sauce, I turned to look at Stiles. He was leaning against the refridgerator, watching me in awe. I felt a sense of pride as he pushed himself off of the metal surface and came to stand next to me. "Wanna taste?" I asked innocently, holding up a giant fork.

Stiles' mouth was practically watering. "Is that a joke? 'Cause it wasn't funny."

I laughed and handed him the fork, which he instantly dipped into my masterpiece. After taking a bite, his eyes shut, and he moaned in pleasure. "God…where did you learn to cook like this?"

I shrugged one shoulder, slightly embarrassed. "My dad, actually. He was really good at cooking; he took classes before he went into construction. My mom always teased him and said he should have been a housewife…" I trailed off, lost in fond memories. Stiles opened his eyes and gave me a smile that made my heart flutter.

"Awesome. Maybe you should come cook every night. I mean, I am a growing teenage boy, after all, and I practically starve to death…" Stiles feigned a look of agony.

"It sure looks like it," I giggled, poking him in the stomach.

Stiles jumped away from me, laughing. "Hey, now, chef. Don't get any ideas."

I turned my back on him and stirred the pasta, snorting at his words. "I believe I have the last say. I _am _the one who cooked dinner."

Stiles leaned up against the counter beside me, smirk still firmly in place. I was glad to see him smiling. If this is what it took to make him happy, maybe I _would_ start coming over and cooking every night. I had been so wrapped up in our conversation that I hadn't even noticed that Stiles had sauce on his chin. "Come here," I said, exasperated, like I was talking to a small child. Stiles did as I asked. "You have sauce all over your face," I laughed quietly. Reaching out a finger, I wiped the mess away. I saw Stiles shiver at my touch, and my own body felt like it had been electrified. Stiles grabbed my hand and held it in place, making my breath hitch in my throat. Our eyes met. The air was charged with something-it felt like longing. Was I tasting my own emotions? Or was Stiles-

Our lips were an inch apart, and I could no longer think straight. I wanted him to kiss me. God, I wanted it so bad, and it wasn't right for me to want him, but I did anyway.

Before our lips could touch, Sheriff Stilinski popped his head around the corner and asked: "How's everything going, guys?"

I jerked back immediately, and Stiles did the same, a panicked look in his eyes. I nearly knocked the dish of spaghetti into the floor with my sudden movement. Sheriff Stilinski eyed us curiously, but he didn't say anything about the stricken looks on our faces. I hoped it was because he hadn't seen what we were about to do and not because he didn't know what to say about it.

"Great!" I said, staring down at the pasta. My voice sounded shrill to my own ears. I began to scoop the spaghetti onto plates, my hands shaking. _Dammit, Stiles. You have the worst timing in the world. _After I had ladled out the contents of our dinner, we all sat down at the tiny kitchen table. We ate in silence for a good moment, savoring the food. I looked over at Stiles, who was shoveling bite after bite into his mouth like it was going to disappear. The sheriff was going considerably slower, but I could tell he enjoyed it just as much.

"This is amazing, Sera. Thank you so much."

My smile was incredibly wide. "No problem, sir. This was my grandma's recipe; my dad usually added peppers to the mix, but I made do without them."

The Sheriff tilted his head in agreement. "It seems just fine to me."

"Plus," I said, tapping my foot under the table, "Stiles told me you can only have certain foods, and I wasn't completely sure…" I trailed off.

Mr. Stilinski set his fork down a minute and glared at his son. "I can eat peppers, Stiles. Are you trying to turn me into a vegan?"

Stiles swallowed a mouthful of spaghetti and pointed his fork at his father. "Obviously not, Dad; you're eating meat. The doctor said nothing greasy OR overly spicy, and I'm just making sure you follow his orders. This is wheat pasta, and I got low-fat sauce-"

"Where the hell do you get low-fat sauce?" The sheriff grumbled as he took another bite.

Stiles gave him an indignant look. "I had to look in three different stores for this stuff! And it isn't cheap, I'll have you know."

Mr. Stilinski rolled his eyes. "Luckily Sera cooked, or this would have tasted like burnt rubber."

I laughed, and Stiles let a grin quirk the corner of his mouth.

After the sheriff had finished, he put his plate in the sink and came back to sit down. Stiles was already on his second plate by then. The sheriff folded his hands on the table and gave me a serious look. I could feel myself stiffen, and a somber mood once again settled over all of us. "Seraphina, can you tell me what time you went to take out your garbage this morning?" Mr. Stilinski's voice was soft and pleasant.

"Right at six," I told him quietly.

Stiles had stopped eating and was watching us intently.

"Okay. And when you came outside, did you see the body immediately?"

I shuddered and wound a strand of hair around my finger. "No. I was walking over to the stairs, and she was-just lying there-"

Stiles eyes were full of pain. I wanted him to leave the room; he didn't have to hear this.

The sheriff nodded. "When you approached the body, were the fatal wounds the only thing you noticed?" Sheriff Stilinski's face had taken on a worn look. Defeated, almost. Drained.

"No. No, it looked like she had marks on her wrists and ankles. Almost like…like she had been tied up." My voice was hoarse.

Stiles rubbed the brige of his nose and closed his eyes, and his father sighed. "One last question, Sera; I know the other officers grilled you this morning. Was there anyone suspicious around, or anyone that seems suspicious living in your building? Because the lack of blood at the crime scene suggests that Heather was killed at a different location, maybe not very far away."

I saw Stiles flinch when he heard her name. It made it too real for him. "No, sir." I whispered. "I didn't see anyone this morning, and I can't think of anyone in my building that seems suspicious. I'm sorry."

The sheriff nodded and ran his hand across his face. "It's fine. I'm not trying to bombard you with questions you've already been asked, but I'm trying to glean some insight. Heather's family used to be incredibly close to ours, and I'm trying to give them the closure they need. When Stiles and Heather were little, Jocelyn and Mrs. Monroe-"

That seemed to be too much for Stiles. He stood up suddenly, fork falling to his plate with a clatter. "I'm going outside for a minute," he mumbled, not even giving anyone a chance to reply. He was gone in the blink of an eye.

I stared down at my hands. _Jocelyn. Stiles' mother was named Jocelyn._ I tried to match the name with the woman's pretty face, and it fit well. _It suited her._

The sheriff gave another tired sigh. "I should have asked him to go in the other room. He's usually good with stuff like this, helpful even, but I think Heather's death hit too close to home. And then I mentioned his mother on top of everything…" The man had a miserable look on his face. His emotions churned around me: guilt and pain left a bitter taste on my tongue and a deep ache in the back of my throat. Mr. Stilinski looked at me. "Stiles had been getting distant these past few months. I know it's nothing personal, but he…just seemed to be drifting further and further away from me. And then this week, he started making an effort again. It was around the same time he started mentioning your name, I guess." I felt a blush light up my cheeks. "He seemed more at ease than he had in a while. I figured that meeting you had some some sort of effect on him." Sheriff Stilinski smiled at me. "I know Heather's death has been especially hard on him-she was his childhood best friend-but I think you being around him will make a difference, Seraphina. And I just wanted to say thank you for that."

I was at loss for words. When I finally regained my speech, I said: "You're welcome. But Stiles-if anything, he's helped me, sir. I was…always by myself, and he wanted to change that. He wanted to make me feel like I was aprt of something, like I was important. He wanted to make me feel like I belonged, and he did. So the least I can do is be there for him." _Stiles, of all people, deserves to be happy._

The sheriff nodded, his smile kind. "I see. You're a sweet girl, Seraphina. I hope to see you around here more often."

I stood up from the table and dumped my plate, taking care to wash it off in the sink. "Thank you, Sheriff." After I dried my hands on my jeans, I focused solely on Stiles' dad. "I'm going to go talk to him. And then I'm going to head home. It was nice meeting you."

"You too, Sera." Mr. Stilinski grinned warmly. "Don't hesitate to come back." His face instantly took on a serious quality. "If you ever need anything, or feel unsafe in your apartment, give me a call. I'll be happy to help."

"Thank you," I replied, voice sincere. I waved and turned to go find Stiles.

He was sitting on the steps of the front porch, head propped up on his hands. I stood motionless in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then his grief hit me like a concrete wall, and I knew. I sat down beside him gently. Stiles looked over at me. His eyes were red-rimmed, tired, and his mouth was set in a grim line. I hated to see him look like that. He stared off into the distance and said nothing. I put my hand on his arm, a small,comforting gesture to let him no I was there. After a long pause, Stiles finally broke the silence. "You don't have to do this, you know." His voice was quiet.

"Do what?" I asked, though I knew what he meant.

Stiles caramel eyes were searching as he looked at me. There was a sort of desperation in him that worried me. "Stay here with me. You don't have to."

"I know I don't," I whispered. "But that doesn't change that I _want_ to.

His brow furrowed, and I squeezed his arm. "Why?"

"Didn't you tell me," I began, "that I didn't have to be alone?"

Stiles nodded slowly, seeming confused.

"Well, the same goes for you. You don't have to be alone. If you want to talk-about Heather, your mom, anything-I'll listen. I'll understand. Because even though I'm not ready to tell you everything yet, I trust you. And I want you to trust me." My voice was tender. There was nothing I wanted more than to be here with Stiles.

Stiles watched me for a moment. Then he tilted up my chin with a finger. His eyes were full of wonder. "The crazy thing is," he laughed quietly, "that I know you're telling the truth." He swept his eyes over my face one last time, brushing back my dark hair from my face. The pull between us was almost unbearable, it had become so strong. I swallowed, knowing that we were hanging dangerously close to the edge of something.

But when Stiles leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine, my brain seemed to short-circuit. My eyes fluttered shut. He tasted like mint, as though he had popped a piece of gum in before coming outside, and his lips were soft, yet firm, against my own. I melted into the kiss, feeling our mouths move in perfect synchronization. Stiles arms were around me, pulling me closer, and then my hands were sliding up his back, fingers tangling in his hair. There was so much passion in that one kiss: it was soft and sweet and unhurried, and I savored every second of it. The built up tension between us seemed to unravel the longer we embraced, and when we finally pulled apart, we were smiling.

Stiles ran his fingers across my cheeks, making desire burst to life inside me. His pale cheeks had flooded with color, and there was a new light in his eyes that hadn't been there a moment before. "Sorry," he whispered, voice husky.

I smiled up at him. "For what?"

Stiles continued to caress my cheeks. His grin made my heart swell. "For not doing that sooner. Who knew you could kiss like that?"

I giggled and pushed his hands away, sitting back. "You weren't half bad yourself."

Stiles snorted. "Oh, really? I was only better than half bad? Wanna test that theory?" Stiles wiggled his eyebrows, leaning forward again.

Just as his lips were about to meet mine, I jerked my head to the side and placed a quick peck on his cheek, jumping to my feet.

Stiles stared a me for a moment, bewildered. "That's what you did to me last night, you tease!" I laughed, tucking my hands into my jacket.

Stiles frowned a little. "Hey, no fair!"

"Exactly my point!" I called, walking backward down the driveway.

Stiles scrambled to his feet. "Don't you need a ride home?"

I shook my head and laughed. "Nah, thanks. I'm going to walk. Some stupid boy made my thoughts a jumbled mess, and I need to clear my head."

It took Stiles a moment to realize that I was talking about him, and he made a face at me. "Ha ha. So I'll see you at school on Monday?"

I blinked. I had forgotten it was Friday. "Yeah, I'll see you then."

He gave me one last grin and entered his house. I sighed contentedly and made my way down the street, lost in a haze. Stiles had kissed me. Really, truly, actually kissed me. I felt like I was floating; it was a wonder my feet were still working properly. I could only guess what this might mean for the stylistic boy and I. _What if Scott and the others find out?_ I thought, frowning a bit. I didn't really know what to say to them.

I came to a sudden stop in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes going wide with horror. _Oh, god, what if _Derek _finds out?!_ I shook my head and continued to walk. _Derek hated all of Laura's boyfriends. Like, seriously loathed them. If I tell him a have a thing with Stiles…_ I shivered at the thought of what he would do. _I'm so screwed._

A noise behind me snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder, curious, but there was nothing there. A chill swept over me, and it had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. I walked faster, pulling my jacket tightly around me. I longed for the safety of my apartment. I knew I wasn't imagining it now; someone was following me. I poured on the speed until I was almost jogging. _Damn, I really wish I had a cell phone right about now. Calling for back-up sounds pretty good._

I swung around a corner, breathing heavily as I leaned up against the building behind me. After a few seconds, I peered around the edge. No one was there.

I sighed, closing my eyes. Either I was getting really paranoyed or-

"Hello, Seraphina."

My eyes flew open. Standing in front of me was a well-dressed man. He wore a large overcoat, dark sunglasses, and a knowing smile. I pressed myself against the wall, terror igniting my senses. The man stepped closer, dark hair mussing slightly in a sudden gust of wind. In his hand was a long metal walking stick, one of those meant for the blind. The man came closer still, cold smile only growing as he inhaled my scent. "Ah, yes. You hid youself well, girl. But I knew there was something special about you." His accent was British, close to the one I'd heard the night before. He stroked my cheek, a twisted mockery of the tender caress Stiles had given me earlier. I couldn't move. I was frozen in place by the man's overpowering presence. "You have no idea how important you are."

I swallowed, trying to turn my head.

"I have to say, Miss Hale, I'm impressed." I nearly stopped breathing when he said my last name. "Oh, yes, I know exactly who you are now."

A whimper forced its way from my throat.

"Don't fret, dear. I just want to talk. I get a little impatient sometimes." The man removed his glasses, revealing milky, sightless blue eyes. "I just simply could not wait to meet you, Seraphina." His predatory smile only widened as I shrank away from him. "Forgive me. Where are my manners? I am Deucalion Devereaux, my dear."

I stared at the leader of the alpha pack, knowing my life was hanging in the balance of whatever happened next.

**Wow, that took forever. Oh well, it was worth it. We didn't make it to 20 reviews last time, lovelies, so I'll ask for 15. :D Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next update might be a while, but stay tuned…everything is about to change. **-Harley

**(P.S.-Yes, that is my actual name, and yes, I am a girl. And no, I'm not named for the motorcycle. Until next time. Xoxoxo)**


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Of Legends and Darkness

_When your dreams all fail_

_And the ones we hail_

_Are the worst of all_

_And the blood's run stale_

_...No matter what we breed_

_We're still made of greed_

_This is my kingdom come,_

_This is my kingdom come._

_-Demons, by Imagine Dragons_

I read a quote somewhere once that went something like this: "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that they do not become a monster. For if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." At the time that I had read it, I hadn't understood what it meant. I was still very young. But over the years, my unwavering trust for others and my resolute innocence had faded considerably, and I could finally come to terms with that quote.

It was a somewhat twisted way to view life, but it seemed like it was close enough to the truth. Sometimes you become the very thing that you are fighting against.

I wondered, in some calm part of my mind, if that was what had happened to Deucalion.

His sightless eyes were locked on my face, and I could feel a shudder shake my core. There was something about him that seemed completely unnatural, and it wasn't the gloating smirk that rested on his lips. It was his scent, or maybe just his over all presence, that emanated an awful kind of darkness. Wickedness inside...and out.

Had Deucalion fallen hard from grace? That was hard to imagine. It was easier to picture him evil from the get-go, bad from first breath. To imagine a man like him smiling and laughing-that seemed utterly impossible. Whatever had happened to the Devereaux man, it was clear that he was now empty of the vital things, such as human conscious.

He stoood uncomfortably close to me, chilling smile still firmly in place. I wondered if he expected me to say something. He would be sadly disappointed if he was, because words for me at this point were but a distant memory. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the cramped, dirty alley that we were wedged in, and I was now stuck in an endless void.

_Always the alleys_, I thought in distaste, pressing myself even close to the brick wall behind me.

"I have to admit, Seraphina, your Masking charm was more than sufficient." Deucalion placed his dark glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "But as of late, your stress levels spiked, and your essence began to leak through. My pack and I had no idea that the scent belonged to you, however. We searched, but it seemed almost as your essence had soaked into every fiber and being of the town; it would have been impossible to pinpoint you." Deucalion chuckled quietly. It was a low, rumbling thing that sent shivers through my entire frame. "And of course, you played the role of an ignorant human girl very well, my dear." The alpha leader tapped his walking stick on the ground, leaning forward on it slightly. "You had everyone fooled for a while. But werewolves aren't meant to keep up a constant stream of magic-it was only a matter of time before something went wrong, Seraphina.

"You only hurt yourself more when you dropped your shield completely in front of the twins. They confirmed our deep suspicions, and, lo and behold, the lost Hale stands in front of me." Deucalion's smirk only grew when he heard me give a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, yes, that is a touchy subject, isn't it? You and your uncle were the only survivors of that terrible fire. Such a pity."

I gritted my teeth, hands balling up into fists. I knew Deucalion was trying to get a rise out of me, but I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. I was tremendously grateful that he couldn't see my bottom lip wobble traitorously.

"You are so quiet, Seraphina. I feel like I'm having a conversation with myself."Deucalion's words weren't teasing-I heard the sinister edge beneath them. He wanted me to speak.

Swallowing, I hissed: "You killed Heather Monroe." My shaking hadn't ceased.

Deucalion tilted his head, reminding me of a snake sizing up its prey. The movement cast his face into the fading sunlight. "I believe we've already established that, yes. I did kill the Monroe girl-she was a ridiculously easy target, and she was connected to you in the most meaningless of ways. Easily disposable, and useful enough to make a point. I needed to have your undivided attention, Seraphina."

"Well, you have it now," I snarled. Fear and anger were vigorously pumping through my veins, warring with each other inside of me. My bag was crushed between my back and the cold brick wall behind me, so grabbing the dagger that was hidden somewhere in its folds was out of the question. And shifting forms definitely wasn't the brightest plan; Deucalion would rip out my throat before my claws could even sharpen. I stared at the litter-strewn ground and pursed my lips. There was no way I could cast a Defense spell, either. I didn't have the necessary herbs to aid me, nor did I have the right amount of concentration. Helplessness nearly overwhelmed me. If only I could find an opening in Deucalion's guard-then I could run.

_Run: do what I'm best at,_ I thought bitterly.

Deucalion shook his head, clearly amused by my barely-masked hostility. "It seems as though I do have your attention."

"What do you want?" I whispered, looking up through the thick curtain of hair around my face. Deucalion began to pace, tapping the ground with his walking stick as he did so.

"There are many things that I want, dear girl. But I assume that you're asking what I want with you?" I didn't reply, but my silence seemed like an answer enough. "You, Seraphina, are very special," Deucalion began. "You are unique among other wolves." I froze, my breath nearly halting in my throat. "Your mother-the alpha female of your pack-was very talented. She could change into an actual _wolf_, a rare ability, especially among bitten werewolves." I swallowed. _How does he know about Mom?_ "However, Talia's talents aren't nearly as important as yours, Seraphina. You have an infinite amount of potential that is just waiting to be tapped into." Deucalion smiled up at the darkening sky. "You don't even know what you're capable of, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" My voice was steely, but laced with a sickening fear. Deucalion came to a complete stop, going as rigid as a statue. He listened intently as my heart rate sky-rocketed.

"You are the missing piece to so many puzzles, Seraphina. The answer to hundreds of years of questions..."

"Care not to use damn riddles?" I snapped.

Deucalion tsked. "To put it simply-you have something that was taken from us, Miss Hale. And because of that, you are incredibly important."

Indignation flared within me. "I don't have anything of yours!" My rising anger made me bolder, and I took a step forward unthinkingly. "You information source is faulty. I came back to Beacon Hills for my brother, end of story. You, on the other hand, came here to cause nothing but panic and destruction. Which I will have no part in."

I tried to go around the blind man, but his hand shot out, and he grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip. "Once again, Seraphina, you are confused. You assume things when you have no real knowledge, and therefore, make yourself out to be foolish. I am a patient man, but I will not tolerate such brash behavior." Deucalion tightened his grip until I was sure my bones would turn to dust. I yelped against my will. "Otherwise, your firends will suffer for your insubordination."

The leader of the alpha pack released me, and I rubbed my wrist fervently as it began to heal. The black and blue bruises faded more gradually, a solid reminder of what speaking out got me. "If you are so interested as to why you're essential, look back to the past between our families, Miss Hale. Legends hold more truth than one would ever think."

I stared at the man in front of me, completely bewildered by his words. There was something about those words that unnerved me. What was he implying? Or was he simply toying with me?

_For if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you..._

Ducalion was the abyss, I was starting to see. His words sparked a dark curiosity in me, and I felt myself yearning to further understand what he meant. That almost frightened me more than Deucalion himself.

I needed to get out. _Now._ Before I could try to dart away again, however, I caught sight of something moving in my peripheral vision. My head whipped around, and I shifted my position so that I was facing the oncoming threat. The shadows came closer, and then closer. In the darkness, a human wouldn't have been able to see anything but indistinguishable blobs. But I wasn't a human, and unfortunately for me, I could see every detail.

Leading the group was a woman with an angular face and deep mahogany hair, her eyes the color of fresh blood. She wore a loose shirt, jeggings, and, surprisingly, no shoes. I swallowed nervously when I took in her razor-sharp toenails. There was a man looming over the woman's shoulder, and he was equally, if not more, terrifying. He was tall and broad, with bulging muscles and a toothy grin that made my skin crawl. Behind the hulking man were the twins. Ethan and Aiden were dressed in identical leather jackets, their handsome faces marred by ugly smirks and glowing eyes.

Deucalion turned to face the woman, seeming pleased. "Ah, yes. Seraphina, let me introduce you to my pack. This is Kali, my mate." I stared at the alpha female in bewilderment. Her eyes and stance were cold and unyeilding. Deucalion then gestured to the menacing man. "Ennis, an old family friend. And then, of course, you've already had the pleasure of meeting my nephews, Aiden and Ethan."

My mouth dropped open. "N-nephews?"

Deucalion nodded. "Yes-their mother was my sister." My mind was reeling. I knew the twins shared the same last name as Deucalion, but I had thought it had been a cover. I hadn't even imagined that they were all _related..._

I blinked and blinked, watching as Deucalion's smug smirk pulled down into a frown. He took off his glasses, and again, I saw those milky blue eyes that were rimmed with red. "Where is Liam?" he questioned, voice deadly quiet. Kali shifted uncomfortably. Her icy expression turned somewhat nervous.

"You know that boy, Deucalion..." Kali replied, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. She shot Ennis a look from the corner of her eye.

"Kali." There was a warning note in the alpha leader's voice. He sounded very dangerous in that moment. I wanted to scurry away from the rising tension, but I was still trapped against the wall, powerless. I wouldn't make it two steps.

Deucalion clutched his sunglasses in one hand, his walking stick in the other. He began to fold and unfold the device, nimble fingers working easily with the metal. He was clearly waiting for a better excuse. And by the look on his face, he wasn't expecting to be disappointed.

Kali gave a shaky sigh. "He left before I returned to the apartment complex. I was informed that he had decided to go 'exploring'."

Deucalion snapped his walking stick out to its full length, making me flinch. I could see the barely contained anger on his face. His pack stiffened in anticipation, waiting to be punished. But after a second, the storm seemed to pass. "Of course he did. He is, without a doubt, my brother's son," Deucalion growled under his breath.

_Another nephew? The alpha pack is made up of the Devereaux family, except for Ennis. So who is the boy that's missing? And why isn't he here?_

I was yanked from my thoughts when Deucalion turned his attention back on me. "I apologize, my dear. Liam has never been one for rules or courtesy."

"Such formality directed at a Hale, Deucalion," Kali observed, her lips curling. "I'm surprised."

I crossed my arms over my chest, not enjoying the way Kali sneered _Hale._

Deucalion gave a sage nod. "She is not just any Hale. _She_ has what was stolen from us."

Ennis stepped forward, staring at me skeptically, almost in outrage. "_This _girl? She's barely more than a pup!"

I opened my mouth, about to argue my innocence, but the cruel looks that the twins shot me made my mouth snap shut. I didn't understand why the alphas believed that I had taken something from them, but their misplaced accusations were really starting to grind on my already frayed nerves. I was desperately afraid of them, yet exhaustion was taking its toll. Sooner or later I was going to say something out of line, and I was going to have more than a bruised wrist to show for it.

It was better not to speak at all.

"Seraphina, you seem rather tired," observed Deucalion, tapping his fingers to his chin. "I believe you have heard enough for tonight." My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That was it? He was...letting me go? Kali seemed to be just as befuddled as I was. She rested a hand on Deucalion's shoulder, her touch like a question. Her mate, however, offered no reply. His sightless eyes still rested on me. "Understand this, though, Miss Hale: the next time I find you, I will receive your full cooperation. I believe some research is in order, and then you will have your head straight. And if I am mistaken..." Deucalion trailed off. "Your friends will suffer for your refusal. That would be a shame, Seraphina. Your human pet has already endured enough, don't you think?"

My blood ran cold at the mention of Stiles. How could this man threaten my friends in such a light manner, with a smile on his face? I didn't answer Deucalion, nor did I move from my spot. He wanted me to give a biting reply, to give him a reason to injury the people I had sworn to protect. But I wasn't about to give him that satisfaction. Deucalion chuckled at my stubborness, taking Kali's arm. The pair swept out of the alley in almost a blink of an eye, their shadows spilling around me like ink down a page. Ennis, Ethan, and Aiden all follwed suit, each shooting me predatory grins before they departed. I watched them go in my muted silence.

Then I was left completely alone, trembling against the wall. My legs were quaking beneath me, threatening to send me plummeting onto the cold, dirty ground. I ran a hand through my hair, supporting myself on the wall with the other. My eyes closed on their own accord, and I felt as though my eyelids had become lead weights. _What the hell just happened?_

I weakly debated whether or not reality would let me take a long vacation from this terrifying madness. Because I sure needed one, at this point. Peeling my eyes open, I pushed off the wall and immediately scampered out of the alley, wanting to put some distance between myself and that disgusting place. And who knew: maybe Deucalion would decide that he wasn't done scaring me half to death and come back. I didn't want to be around if he did.

My navy blue Vans slapped the concrete rhythmatically, giving me something else to focus on other than Deucalion's threats. I wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed, but paranoia made me think twice. What if the Devereauxs were watching my apartment? That seemed highly likely, considering the strange figure I had seen lurking in the trees a few days before, and the placement of Heather's corpse. I didn't feel like taking any unnessary chances at the moment.

After a brief internal debate, I made a hard decision. After all, it would be better to wound my pride than to wind up dead in ditch somewhere. I pulled my bag off my shoulders and rummaged around until I found the sheet of paper that held the address. It was crinkled a bit, but I could still make it out fine nevertheless. Scott had scribbled the address down, insisting that I take it as a precaution.

I wanted to hug him now for his consideration. Frowning, I puzzled out the street name and numbers, trying to come up with the rough location in my head. Then I set out on a journey to the heart of town. After a while of walking, I passed the Iris Street sign, Ellie's Grill, and Chino and Ginger-the local bookstore-which signaled the approach to my destination. Street lights buzzed and flickered overhead, threatening to cast whatever unfortunate souls that were roaming the streets into complete darkness. My hands tucked deep into my jacket pockets, I peered around. The center of town was deathly quiet, as it always was this time of night. But tonight, the silence wasn't familiar and comfortable. It held a chill that was foreboding.

Shivering, I came to a stop outside of a huge building and glanced upward. I knew the loft was located on the top floor, but that didn't stop me from feeling skeptically. I reread the address for what seemed like the tenth time: 2147 Iris Street. This was it. _What if he's not here?_ I kicked the toes of my shoes against the sidewalk, pulling my jacket tighter around me as a huge gust of wind assaulted me from behind. _Better yet-what if he doesn't want me here? We're still not on the best terms..._

Shaking my head, I pushed all my doubts away. I couldn't just stand here in the cold and think miserable things. I had to figure out the answer to my questions the hard way.

I walked up to the heavy glass doors in front of me and pulled them open with ease, striding into the large abandoned building. The air was musty and stale, reminding me somewhat of my visit to the boys' locker room. The thought of being there, stripping down to just my bra in front of Stiles, made a heated blush rise in my cheeks. I pushed the Stilinski boy from my mind and focused on my surroundings. There were electrical wires hanging from the ceiling, tiles missing from the floor, dusty boxes piled in every corner of the vast room, and an empty, deserted reception desk. There was a door on the wall opposite from me, and through its grimy window, I could just barely make out a metal staircase. I took the liberty of pushing the door open and using the steps behind it, as it seemed like there hadn't been anyone here for a lond period of time.

Embarrassingly, I was still shaking, though from cold or fear, I wasn't sure. After a few minutes of seemingly-endless walking, I reached the top floor with a sigh. Now was the moment of truth. Emerging from the stairwell, I scoped out the scene in front of me. There was a giant, lone metal door straight down the hallway; it clearly had to be the address that I was searching for. As I walked, arms firmly wrapped around my torso, I examined the hallway. It, like the downstairs portion of the building, seemed to be falling apart-the paint of the walls was peeling, and several places in the wall revealed plaster and installation. I carefully avoided pieces of discarded dry-wall and broken glass as I made my way to the door.

Taking a deep breath, I rapped my knuckles gently on the door. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silence. For a second, there was no response. Then suddenly, the door was sliding open, screeching as it went. I instictively slapped my hands over my ears, wincing. Light spilled out into the darkness, and I blinked, my eyes adjusting in a heatbeat.

Derek stood in the doorway wearing dark jeans, a forest green T-shirt, and a frown. His posture was rigid as usual. I dropped my hands from my ears sheepishly, my eyes darting down to my feet. When I looked back up, Derek's scowl had turned into a look of pure confusion. It was odd to see his brooding mask faulter, but I watched as it did-his yellow-green eyes widened slightly, his thick eyebrows furrowed, and his lips parted. Derek scrubbed a hand over his unshaven cheek, still seeming like he couldn't believe I was there. "Seraphina?" I heard the barest hint of worry in the way Derek said my name. Or maybe I was just tasting the worry-sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.

I gave my older brother a pleading look. "Can-can I come in?" My voice was soft, holding no snark or gusto whatsoever.

Derek didn't even pause. He stepped back, a solid invitation.

I nearly cried in relief. I stepped into Derek's apartment with an unconvincing smile.

The loft was spacious, wooden beams criss-crossing in every possible direction over my head. A few support beams met the conrete floor. There was a large bay window directly opposite of me; I could only guess it provided most of the light, considering the dismal number of lights on the ceiling and the dim shine they were putting forth. Walking further into the room, I noticed a mahogany table in front of the bay window, and to the right of it was an immaculately made bad, belonging to Derek, no doubt. The wall behind the bed had an interesting, gaping hole in it, curiously shaped like a circle. I told myself that I probably didn't want to know. And to the far left was a spiral metal staircase and a worn blue sofa...which had people sitting on it.

I jolted back in surprise. I had been so busy drinking in every detail of my brother's home that I hadn't even noticed the two other betas sitting in the room. Boyd was streched out on the sofa, blinking sleepily in my direction. He had a quilt pulled up to his shoulders, but he pushed it off and sat up as I drew nearer. His drowsy empression instantly turned stony, and I briefly wondered if he had been taking brooding lessons from Derek.

The other person on the couch was Isaac. He sat, precariously balanced, on the right arm of the sofa, his feet propped up on a fold-out chair, a book in his hands. But he wasn't reading at the moment. He was staring at me with wide blue eyes, alarm in his expression.

I quickly understood why. Isaac was wearing a plain white tank top and...plaid boxers. He jumped to his feet, cursing under his breath. A red blush stained his cheeks.

Derek came to stand beside me, rolling his eyes at Isaac's distress. "And as I said before: it's best to keep _all_ your clothes on-you never know what might happen."

Isaac shot Derek a glare and bolted for the staircase. "You never said anything about your sister showing up!" he exclaimed. Then he clambored up the steps and went out of sight. I gave a shaky laugh and went over to Derek's meticulously made bed, sitting on the edge of it.

After a moment's hesitation, Derek seated himself next to me. I folded my hands on my lap, working my lower lip between my teeth as I debated on how to start. "Sera," Derek murmured, "what happened?"

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth, about to reply, when Isaac came back down the stairs, now in a loose pair of basketball shorts. He gave me a tentative smile and eased himself onto the couch beside Boyd. Both boys watched me intently. Derek was still clearly waiting for my response as well.

"Deucalion cornered me tonight. I was at Stiles' house getting questioned about Heather Monroe's death, and then when I left-he was just there, standing in the alley."

"Alley?" Boyd asked.

Isaac shifted his position on the couch so that he was facing me directly. "Hang on, you said you wouldn't go talk to him without back up!" He narrowed his eyes. "You could have come and got me."

I rolled my eyes. "Isaac, did you hear anything I just said? He _cornered_ me. It's not like I invited him over for tea time." I turned my gaze on Boyd. "Yes, alley. I was trying to get away from whoever was following me, so I hid there. Which, incidentally, only screwed me over more."

"Wait a second!" Derek commanded, holding up a hand. "_Deucalion _wanted to speak with you?" His eyes burned as I nodded. Derek got to his feet, his glare now directed at Isaac. "You knew about this and didn't think to tell anyone?!"

Isaac flinched, opening his mouth to retort, but I quickly came to his aid. "He was going to tell you," I said, "but I stopped him. Deucalion left me note the night of Heather's murder, claiming that he wanted to speak with me. You had sent Isaac to tell me about Boyd's capture, so he was right with me when I found it. I made him promise to not say anything, Derek. I-I didn't want you to worry about me."

Derek stared at me, running his fingers through his dark hair. I could tell that he was incredulous. "And you think getting yourself killed _wouldn't_ worry me?" he inquired, voice terse.

I scowled. "I wasn't trying to get myself killed! It's not like I asked to get pinned up against an alley wall by a damn alpha, Derek. Besides, Deucalion found me, not the other way around."

Derek groaned. "You could have called me if you felt like you were being followed."

Rubbing my temples, I muttered: "Sure, I'll make sure I get right on that next time with my _invisible phone."_

My brother blanched. "You don't have a _phone?!"_

_"_It wasn't necessary before."

"Obviously, it's necessary now," Derek growled, "considering that there is a bloodthirsty maniac after you!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac and Boyd exchange a look. "Oh, they're definitely brother and sister," Isaac mumbled under his breath. "Definitely Hales."

Derek and I both frowned and said in unison: "I can _hear_ you!"

Bewildered by speaking the same words as my brother, I shook my head and glanced away just as a voice said: "Now, children, play nicely. It has been too long since we've had a family reunion. And Seraphina has yet to inform of us of what Deucalion wanted with her."

My eyes snapped over to the staircase, and my stomach plummeted to somewhere around my toes when I caught sight of the speaker. I had nearly forgotten that _he_ might be here.

My lips pulled back from my teeth in a snarl. "Peter."

My uncle stood on the last few steps of the staircase, folded arms resting on the metal rail. An amused smile was on Peter's lips, and his icy blue eyes were locked on Derek and I. The years had aged Peter, but not necessarily in a bad way. His jaw was more defined, and he had a thin layer of scruff covering his cheeks. Wrinkles were around his eyes , but they weren't prominent. He reminded me...of my dad. That thought made my stomach flop sickeningly.

"My, you've grown up, Seraphina. You're a spitting image of Talia, you know. Just like Laura was." Peter climbed down the rest of the steps, a bounce in his step.

My vision swam; everything turned red when I heard Peter murmur Laura's name so casually. Like he hadn't hurt her. Like he hadn't _murdered _her.

Derek must have seen my livid expression, because he grabbed my arms just as I lunged. My nails lengthened and my teeth sharpened as I shifted. My eyes were a brilliant gold. "You bastard!" I screamed, trying to pull myself from Derek's grip. Peter watched me struggle, eyebrows merely raising. "You have _no right_ to say her name! You killed Laura! You killed my sister!" I howled in fury, trying to get away from Derek. My brother whirled me around to face him.

"You are going to stop struggling now," he panted, voice low and commanding. I gazed into his blood red eyes, the eyes of an alpha. My will to fight began to ebb away, slowly but surely, until I was slumped over in defeat on Derek's bed. I wanted to feel that rage coursing through me, but Derek had stolen it away so I wouldn't casue a scene. I couldn't tell if that was for better or worse at the moment. As quickly as they had changed, my claws and teeth shrank back down to their normal size, and my eyes faded back to green. Dropping my head into my hands, I fought back tears. An image of Laura flashed through my head-dark hair, wild smile, and playful golden-green eyes._ We're one in the same, Ser-bear,"_ she had laughed. _One day guys will be tripping over themselves just to know your name, I promise. And then we'll be the badass Hale sisters, the girls known for breaking every heart in Beacon Hills._

I wasn't anything like Laura. I could never live up to her potential, or the dream that she had laid out for us all those years ago. A dream that would never be fulfilled because of Peter's selfishness, his intense need to be the alpha. But as it turned out, karma was more of a bitch than planned-not only did Peter loose his alpha status to my brother, but he had also lost his life. But somehow, he had managed to come back, and now he stood before me. If anyone should have been able to come back, it should have been my sister.

"I know that you must hate me, Seraphina," Peter told me. "I want you to understand, though, that I wasn't in my right mind after the fire-that is to say, I had no idea what I was doing when I killed Laura. The urge to heal my body was too strong to ignore; I was running on pure instinct." My uncle sighed when I looked up, and then away, from him. "You may not believe me. But I have always known that you were a good judge of character, Seraphina. When you look at me, do you really think I'm a cold-blooded murderer?"

I swallowed hard. How could this be? How could Peter, the uncle and mentor that I had adored, turn into an utter stranger?

"I know you murdered people, Peter. Laura wasn't the only one. If you're trying to redeem yourself, you're going to have to do a lot better than using fancy words. I'm not easily manipulated, and I'm not a fool."

I didn't forgive Peter-I didn't know if that was even possible-but I decided that is we wanted to defeat the alpha pack, we would need him. I supposed that meant in one piece. Keeping that in mind, I met his eyes again.

My uncle hadn't approached me-a good choice on his part-but his eyes were still locked on me. Curiosity emanated out of every pore. "Now then," he drawled, "_do_ tell why Deucalion wanted to get his grubby paws on you so badly."

After a moment of silence, I complied to his wishes. I started at the beginning, explaining how Deucalion had pulled me aside and ranted about my potential. Then I angrily described the alpha leader's accusation. "He thought that I stole something from him," I grumbled. "He seems very convinced that I'm some sort of thief."

"_Did_ you steal something of his?" piped Isaac, looking at me in interest.

I moaned. "No! I have no idea what he was talking about. He just kept saying that I had something of his, and when I asked to what the hell he was talking about, he told me to look back at our families' past together. Then he said something about how legends are mostly truth."

Derek crossed his arms over his chest, and Peter frowned. "What else did he say?" my uncle inquired, running his fingers across the back of the sofa. I saw the way his eyebrows pulled together in concentration, and the way that his shouldes tensed. Narrowing my eyes, I stalked over until I stood directly in front of him. Boyd and Isaac froze where they sat, staring at me like I was a ticking time bomb.

"Nothing that made sense. Why?" I tilted my chin up, meeting my uncle's gaze. "Do you know what Deucalion was talking about?"

Peter cocked his head to the side, mouth quirking into a slight smile at my suggestion. "No idea."

My shoulders sagged. I knew Peter wasn't lying-I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat clear as day. Frustration clouded my other thoughts. I almost wished that he _was_ lying; I hated being in the dark, and without answers, that was exactly where I would stay. At least Peter lying would have given me an excuse to threaten him.

"But," Peter continued, "I might know of someone who would have a decent idea."

I perked up at that. Maybe I should have been instantly wary-Peter wasn't the most reliable informant, and he wasn't to be trusted. But curiosity had taken its hold on me, and I was eager to hear what my uncle had to say.

Unfortunately, Derek had other plans.

"No." My brother came between Peter and I, his scowl only deepening. "We are not going to him." I could taste Derek's uncertainty in the back of my throat, but that didn't stop me from flashing him an annoyed frown. "He's too involved in out personal lives as it is-there's no need to drag him into this."

Peter rubbed his forehead with his kuckles, an old habit I remembered. "Derek, at this point, we don't really have a choice in the matter. We've already established that the alpha pack is dangerous, maybe even deadly, and their leader has threatened one of our own. If you have any other suggestions to resolve this problem, feel free to speak up." I heard the sarcastic edge in my uncle's voice, and for a moment, I wanted to flash Derek a triumphant smile. But I kept a neutral expression on my face as I eyed my brother's reaction.

Derek clenched his hands into fists.

Annoyance crept back over me, and I blurted: "What are you talking about?"

Surprisingly, it was Isaac who answered. "Dr. Deaton. He's the local vet, and he's Scott's boss."

I stared at the Lahey boy uncomprehendingly. Boyd was shaking his head, obviously fed up with the whole conversation, but I ignored him. "Why the hell would the animal doctor know why Deucalion wants me?"

Derek, growing more impatient by the second, muttered: "Because he's not just a vet. He used to be an emissary for the Hale family. He knew our mother very well, and he practically specializes in myths and legends."

"Except for every damn myth is real," Boyd grunted, turning to look at Derek and Peter.

They didn't disagree. "So...Deaton is an emissary? That would make him a Charm-Caster, wouldn't it?"

Derek sighed. His golden-green eyes were rimmed with dark circles and his mouth was pursed into a grim line. "He _was_ the Hale family emissary. And he's not a Charm-Caster. Charm-Casters manipulate the energy of other beings, feeding on emotions. But Deaton focuses more on nature and spirtual aspects-"

"A druid," I interrupted, nodding my head in understanding. "Druids draw their power from nature, just like you were saying." Derek's face was still stoic, but I could see the surprise in his eyes. "Ophelia told me about the other kind of magic-users. While different, she admitted that theyhad a significant amount of power, and that they also watched over werewolf families." I rubbed my arm in embarrassment, knowing that the boys were staring at me.

"Impressive," Peter chuckled. "It seems like someone kept up on your schooling when I wasn't around to teach you."

I leaned against the back of the couch, eyes wandering up to the ceiling and then over to the hige window. I saw Ophelia in my mind, bright silver eyes and cornsilk hair framing a beautiful, serious face. She had taught me many things, and had provided for me like I was one of her own. She was the closest thing I had to a mother now. _Then why, _a tiny voice in the back of my head whispered, _did you not listen to her when she begged you to leave Beacon Hills. She warned you that terrible things would start to happen, and you didn't listen to her. Now your dream si coming true..._

Closing my eyes, I said, voice quiet: "I need to speak to Dr. Deaton, then. Tonight."

"Tonight?" Derek repeated, incredulous. "It's nearly 11 o'clock. Can't you wait until the morning?"

My eyes flew open. "Whatever is going on," I hissed, "the alpha pack has made it perfectly clear that they do not _wait until morning_. They dumped a dead girl in front of my apartment, Derek. I'm going to Deaton tonight."

"Fine!" he growled. "I can't guarantee that he's going to be at the clinic, though."

I shrugged. "Nothing is guaranteed. I learned that a long time ago."

Derek grimaced, and I saw Peter give me sideways look. There was a mixture of pity emanating from both of them. My words had confirmed just how much I had grown up in these past seven years.

"You always were too wide for your own age, Sera." Peter told me. He strutted over to one of the fold-out chairs and scooped his jacket into his it on, he turned and held his hand out to Derek, palm up. "Give me the keys, Derek. I'll take her."

Before I could even protest the offer, Derek folded his arms over his chest. "Like hell you will. Sera will rip your head off before you can even leave the parking lot."

"I can drive myself," I informed them loudly.

"Somone needs to go with you," Derek argued. "Deucalion is after you and-"

"Oh, for God's sake!" I exclaimed. "Isaac, Boyd, c'mon. You're with me." The two betas reluctantly climbed to their feet, and, satisfied, I whirled around and headed for the door. Derek passed the keys to Boyd, his frown only growing. He was unsure about leaving me in his betas' care; I could feel it. But Derek would have to get over it-I wasn't a little girl anymore. I had learned to protect myself, and I couldn't rely on him for everything. It didn't hurt to ask for help every now and again, but Derek couldn't constantly hold my hand. I knew that.

With a yank, I opened the door and slipped out into the dark, wrecked hallway. Boyd and Isaac were close on my heels, but they remained quiet as we walked down each flight of steps. When we finally emerged outside, I pulled my jacket tighter to my frame. The chill of the night seemed like it was trying to seep into my skin. My eyes scanned the parking lot; I was only now realizing that there wasn't a vehicle parked in sight. "Where-" I began, confusion plaguing me once more.

Before I could finish, however, Boyd was pushing passed me, heading for the back of the building. Isaac followed his lead, giving me a tentative smile as he motioned me forward. Grateful that someone was being kind, I returned the gesture and tried to catch up. Boyd hunched his hulking shoulders against the wind, coming to a halt in front of an SUV parked near a residential Dumpster. He unlocked the doors and slipped into the driver's seat, stony expression still firmly in place. Isaac barely masked a yawn, tilting his head back to look at the sky. The stars were shrouded by the lights of the town, but the moon glowed brightly overhead, partially obscured by gray clouds.

I cleared my throat, breaking the Lahey boy's trance. His gaze locked on me, questioning. I jerked a thumb to point at the vehicle behind me. "What happened to the Camaro?"

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh...let's just sat it's out of commission. Permanently."

I strode over to the over side of the SUV, tugging open the passenger door. "So Derek decided to buy a Soccer Mom Mobile?" I called, sliding in next to Boyd. Isaac laughed at my accurate description. He climed into the back, long legs presssing up against the seats. Feeling bad, I offered to switch him spots, but he refused. Mainly, I figured, because Boyd had already pulled out onto the road. Settling back against my seat, I gazed out the darkly tinted windows. We drove to the outskirts of town, close to where Stiles and Scott lived, actually. I leaned my head against the cold glass, trying to focus on something other than the uncomfortable silence that filled the air.

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. I jerked upright, eyes on Boyd. He held the steeing wheel in a death grip, his nearly-black eyes locked on the road. I could feel his dislike for me rolling off of him in currents, smashing right into my emotional barriers. For some reason, he felt nothing but animosity fro me, and I wanted to know why. Had I doen something to offend him? I barely had muttered a word to him. "Okay," I said, breaking the silence, "what is up with the hostility?"

Boyd glanced over at me out of the corner of his eye. He knew I was speaking to him; Isaac had been nothing but friendly to me. The dark-skinned beta was quiet for a moment, and then he replied simply, "I don't trust you."

Isaac fidgeted anxiously in the backseat.

"Why not?" I asked calmly. I wasn't angry at Boyd's statement, just puzzled.

"We hardly know anything about you, besides the fact that you're Derek's sister. And then we find out that the alpha pack is after you. They're here because of you, and because they came here, Erica is dead." Boyd's voice was cold and disconnected. "Not only that, but a dead human girl was found right outside your doorstep. Deucalion thinks you stole something from him-how can we be sure that you _didn't?_ Ever since you came out of hiding, things have been going to hell quicker than they usually do. I don't think that's a coincidence."

I stared at Boyd, shocked by his accusation. It was true that they didn't know much about me, but I hadn't known that Boyd felt so suspicious of me. Her believed that I was reason that the alphas had shown up, which pontentially could be true. Yet he also believed that Erica's death was my fault. And maybe in an awful sort of way it was, but not in the way Boyd was suggesting. "You think that I'm working with the alphas."

Boyd gave me a one-shouldered shrug, eyes still on the road. " I don't know what to think, other than I don't know if we can trust you."

"Boyd!" Isaac moaned. I could tell that he wasn't used to hearing his friend talk so bitingly, or so much. He was afraid that I would get offended by Boyd's comments and go for his throat. But Isaac had underestimated me. And so had Boyd.

"I'm not with the alphas," I said firmly. "I understand that you think I'm responsible for what is happening. But I'm not. I'm just as in the dark as you are. You can believe me or not-it doesn't matter. Just know that whatever is happening, I'm not the one you should pin Erica's death on. Just know that I'm going to stop the alpha pack. I promise."

Boyd said nothing, but I could sense his discomfort. He still wasn't completely convinced, but halfway unsure was enough for me to work with. Boyd was still wary, and I couldn't blame him for that. I was a stranger with a mysterious past and a tendency to drag trouble behind me. I wanted to prove my loyalty more than ever.

When I turned back to the window, I was surprised to see the animal clinic in the distance. That hadn't taken long at all. As we drew nearer, I noticed that the building was still completely lit. Even for a Friday night, that seemed odd. I was too suspicious to even feel relieved that Deaton was still there.

Boyd pulled the Mom Mobile-as I had dubbed it-into the parking lot, coming to a dead stop in front of the tiny brick building. I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to look at Isaac. "Stay here, 'kay?" Isaac sat straight up and started to protest, but I rolled my eyes and flung open my door. "I'll only be a few minutes, Isaac. No need to come in with me." My eyes searched the lot-there was a white Mazda 3 and a familiar neon-green dirtbike parked a few yards away. "And see," I smirked, pointing at the dirtbike, "Scott is here. I'll be fine."

Isaac reluctantly nodded, muttering something about Hales being insufferably stubborn. I giggled and slid out of the car, shutting the door without glancing back. I hadn't even assumed that Boyd would offer to come with me, and I was fairly relieved that he hadn't. I walked up to the flimsy screen door and grabbed the handle, noticing that the sign pinned on it still read _Open_. Stepping inside, I squinted for only a second as my eyes adjusted to the bright lights. I glanced around the room, taking in the cushioned chairs, animal magazines, and potted plants. Nothing that you wouldn't see in a normal animal hospital. My attention went back to the main desk, which had 'Spay and Neuter' pamphlets, business cards, and fliers for a fundraiser on its suface. In the corner was an out-of-date computer, and there, resting in front of me, was a silver service bell.

After a momnet of hestitation, I placed my hand on the button and let the device ring shrilly. The hushed voices that I had heard upon my arrival ceased completely. When I looked up, I was startled to see a man standing in the doorway behind the counter. He had smooth, mocha colored skin and deep brown eyes that were penatrating, even from a distance. The man had a slight mustache and goatee, and his head was shaved completely bald. I could tell that there was usually a light, pleasant expression on his face, but the look he was giving me was wary.

"Dr. Deaton?" I asked, my voice hoarse. The vet's eyebrows climbed his forehead slowly.

"I"m sorry, miss. But I was just about to close."

"Sir...Sir, my name is Seraphina Hale. I-I was just wondering if you might be able to help me."

Dr. Deaton's eyes widened considerably. "Hale? Miss, Seraphina Hale-"

"Died in the Hale Manor fire with the rest of her family?" I provided, a bitter edge to my voice. "In a way, she did. I go by Seraphina Sinclair now. A Charm-Caster on the High Council, Ophelia Sinclair, adopted me after I escaped the fire...and the Argent family. I returned here to Beacon Hills around a year ago so that I could keep an eye on Derek. But now that the alpha pack is here-well, it became too hard to keep my identity a secret. The alpha pack's leader, Deucalion, wants something from me. I'm here because I want to figure out what."

Deaton blinked at my shortened explanation. "I'm sorry. It's just-that is a lot to take in. I remember you as a child, Seraphina. You were the only Hale child I ever met, because you insisted to be with your mother every waking moment. You used to come here when Talia and I had meetings, eating half of my peppermint jar."

I blushed. "My mother brought me here? I don't remember you, though."

Deaton smiled softly. "You were very young. Collin was still a baby; Libby hadn't even been born yet."

I opened my mouth, wanting to ask more, but a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Seraphina?"

My eyes snapped over to the speaker. Scott McCall was wedged between Deaton and the doorframe, brown eyes wide and inquisitive. I could sense his worry; it tasted slightly tart on my tongue. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to ask Dr. Deaton something. Deucalion and the other alphas-they cornered me tonight after I left Stiles' house. Deucalion thinks that I stole something of his."

"_What?!_" Scott seemed horrified.

"I understand your distress, Seraphina," Deaton assured. "But what I don't understand...is why you want to talk with me."

I placed my elbows on the counter in front of me, biting my lower lip. "Deucalion said something to me-he said the Devereaux and Hale families had history together, and that 'legends are mostly made from truth'. And when I explained that to Derek and the others in his pack, Peter said that if anyone knew what Deucalion meant, it would be you."

Deaton froze where he stood, lips parting slightly. A heartbeat later, he stepped out of the doorway, a grim look on his face. He nodded to the room behind him, motioning for Scott and I. "Come in here. Both of you will need to sit down for this." Deaton's voice was calm and professional, but I could feel the tension and fear welling up inside of him. Hands shaking slightly, I followed Deaton and Scott into the back room. The vet pointed to a pair of plastic chairs in the corner. "Have a seat. I'll be right back." And with that, Deaton disappeared behind a swinging door. Scott tapped his fingers against his knees restlessly, not helping my nerves in the slightest.

The room we were sitting in was tiny-there was just enough room for an examination table, a medical sink, a couple of chairs, and cabinets lining the walls. Posters of smiling people and their animals lined the walls and cabinets alike, and I couldn't help but feel like they were out of place in this situation. After a moment of scoping out my suroundings, I spotted something out of place. Sitting on the floor a few feet away was a lone dog crate, and inside, nestled in a furry little ball, was one of the cutest dogs that I had ever seen.

I stood up suddenly, startling Scott, and made my way over to the crate. The tiny ball of white fluff perked up its brown tipped ears and gave a pitiful whimper. Crouching down in front of the cage, I stuck my fingers through the bars, and the little dog immediately began to lick me. My eyebrows scrunched together, and then I looked over my shoulder at Scott and asked: "Why is this dog in here alone?"

He blinked once, then twice. "Um-his owner just left him in the alley outside. It was really weird, actually; this jock dude came in with the dog, we gave the pup a check-up, and then a few minutes after Kyle left with Bullet, I walked outside. Bullet came running to me, but he was completely alone. Kyle wasn't anywhere."

"Kyle?" I asked, unlocking the cage. The dog, Bullet, bolted from the crate and onto my lap. I absently petted him, a frown tugging at the corners of my mouth. Then something clicked in my head. "Scott, does-does he go to our school? Kyle Jones?"

Scott looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. "Yeah. He hangs out with Lydia, and he's on the lacrosse team with me. I wouldn't expect him to just leave his dog like that. He seemed like he cared for him a lot."

I scooped Bullet up into my arms, heading back to my seat. The dog licked my chin with a soft pink tongue, but it didn't do much to stop my stomach from churning sickeningly. I had an awful feeling about Kyle abandoning his dog. And in Beacon Hills, gut feelings were just about as reliable as polygraph tests.

Bullet squirmed a bit, but then he finally settled down, curling up into a ball on my lap and closing his shiny black eyes. I pet him gently, mulling over what Scott had said in my head. _No, I really don't like what's happening..._

Without notice, Deaton swept back into the room, an old, leather-bound book in his hands. "Sorry," he apologized. "I had to go to the storage room and dig this up." The druid made his way over to the examination table, opening the ancient book to a marked page and laying it on the table's surface. Then he looked over at Scott and I. "I'm sure you both want to know what Deucalion is looking for. But first, I need to tell you how a certain legend came about, many years ago..."

I leaned forward, adjusting Bullet so I wouldn't crush him. Deaton paused for a second, seeming like he was trying to recollect his thoughts. "Years and years ago," he began, "there was said to be a royal European family that was greater than the rest. They were wealthy as could be, powerful, and incredibly intelligent. They ruled their kingdom with an iron fist, but that was not the only reason why they were royalty among royalty." Deaton's eyes closed. "This royal family were said to be shape-shifters, taking the form of half-wolves."

"Werewolves," Scott said under his breath.

Deaton nodded. "Exactly. And the royal werewolves had something that made them nearly invincible...a sceptor, wielded by their king. The Wolf King was a greedy man, and he had a multitude of servants to do his bidding. One of those servants was a renowned magic-user, a druid, and the Wolf king used the druid to make his life more pleasurable. The greedy king always wanted more, however, and one day, he asked the druid for something unimaginable-he wanted the druid to enchant his sceptor, making him untouchable once and for all. The Wolf King wanted what had never been possible-he wanted his sceptor to possess the power to turn humans into werewoves...without the bite to change them."

Stunned silence filled the room. I could distictly hear the dripping of the faucet and Scott's ragged breathing. "Did-did the Wolf King get what he wanted?" I questioned, hugging Bullet to my chest.

Deaton gave a sad smile. "Yes, of course he did. The druid had no way to refuse the King of Wolves and Men. His very life was sacrificed to enchant the sceptor. But while the king was planning to conquer the humans like never before, his son, the prince, was busy falling in love. The boy was like his father-cruel, selfish, and greedy. But then he met a beautiful werewolf girl, and he had a change of heart. The girl, however, wasn't royalty; in fact, her family were peasants. She was kind and just, though-everything that the Wolf Prince was not, and for that, he loved her. He trusted her with his darkest secrets."

It was Scott's turn to lean forward, crossing his arms over his chest. We were both watching Deaton raptly. The vet sighed and continued, "The Wolf Prince told his peasant girl about his father's sceptor and what the Wolf King had envisioned for the world. The peasant girl was horrified by the plan, although she hid her emotions well. She knew how brutal the Wolf King was to his subjects already, and she couldn't imagine what would happen if the sceptor was used on humans. So she and her family made their own plot. When the peasant girl was invited to the palace one day for dinner, she snuck her brother in through the kitchen door. The peasant girl was cunning; she kept the Wolf Prince occupied while her brother slipped into the king's corridors and stole the sceptor. The king and his guards were away for the weekend, so the chamber was unguarded. The Wolf Prince had sworn that he could watch over his castle."

My eyes had gone incredibly wide.

"After her brother stole away into the night, bringing the sceptor back to their family, the peasant girl fled the palace. It wasn't long before the Wolf Prince and his father learned of her trickery. They searched far and wide for the peasant werewolf family, putting out bounties for the Wolf Prince's former lover. Years passed by, and the Wolf prince gained the title of king. On his deathbed, the Wolf Prince's father had made him swear that he would find the sceptor and destroy those who had stolen it. And then, finally, on a day decades after the betrayal, the new Wolf King found his peasant girl. Only she wasn't a girl anymore. Granted, she was still cunning and beautiful, but she had traveled across the land, and she knew the ways of the world. She was very tired of running. So when her former lover threatened her life, she laughed in his face."

Scott and I exchanged a look. Deaton didn't even pause to let that information sink in properly. "The peasant woman taunted the former Wolf Prince, telling him that he would never find the sceptor. After taking the peasant woman prisoner and searching every inch of her property, the Wolf King still was empty handed. He went to his former lover in her dungeon cell, full of fury. Though she had been locked away, she hadn't breathed a word about the sceptor's location, even when they tortured her. Again, the werewolf woman had taunted her former prince, telling him that his search was fruitless. In his anger, the new Wolf King slashed his former beloved's throat. And as she died, laughing, she told him: 'The sceptor dies with me'.

"The Wolf King searched for the sceptor for the rest of his life, but it was never found. And though the sceptor seemed to be lost forever, the animosity between the royal werewolf family and the peasant werewolf remained. They hated each other because they had been bred to do so, and it became apart of their heritage, as it is said to be to this day," Deaton finished quietly.

Scott ran his hand through his thick black hair, staring at this boss in awe. My eyes were glued on Dr. Deaton, too. That legend...it seemed familiar. Almost like one of the bedtime stories my father used to tell me.

"I'm sure you can guess which family is which," Deaton murmured after a second.

"The Devereauxs are the royal family. And the Hales...they were the ones who stole the sceptor," Scott replied.

"Correct, Scott. That is why the alpha pack is after Seraphina."

Scott seemed thoroughly confused. "What? That doesn't make any sense. You said yourself that the sceptor was lost a long time ago."

"And it has been found again." Deaton looked deep into my eyes.

Suddenly, everything snapped into place. It was like I was seeing all the puzzle pieces for the first time, and I knew where every single one of them fit. Deucalion's insistance and his ramblings about my potential, my extremely-heightened senses, my ability to taste other people's emotions, and the inescapable feeling that I was heart-breakingly different from everyone else... It all made sense now, every bit of it. I heard the peasant girl's dying words ring through my head: _The sceptor dies with me._ Not 'the location of the sceptor dies with me'." No. Because that wasn't what she had meant at all, was it?

Scott stared at Dr. Deaton, twitching anxiously in his seat. Then his eyes found their way to me. "What is he saying, Seraphina? That you know where the sceptor is?"

I looked around me, not wanting to meet the McCall boy's chocolately orbs. The dog in my arms squirmed, and I could feel Deaton's gaze peircing me, but I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts and revelations to care. My eyes gazed out the tiny window in front of me, locking on the sky outside. I didn't feel like moving for a very long time. Moving meant acknowledging that this was really happening. And that meant coming to terms with who I really was.

"No, Scott," I finally responded. "He's not saying that I know where the sceptor is." I took a deep, cleansing breath. "He's saying that I _am_ the sceptor."

**WOW! Oh my God, it's been too long, guys. I've missed the Fanfiction community so much, but most of all, I missed writing. I can't believe it's been over a month since I've updated. I'M SO SORRY FOR THAT! I just want to crush you all in bear hugs for being so patient with me. First I went on my Europe trip, which was AMAZING, and I was gone for a week and a half. Then I went straight to band camp, which was a week long. After band camp, I've been bombarded by band practice almost every day, AP summer work, and family events. That is my excuse. But in the time that I was away, I hand-wrote this especially long chapter for you guys. I know that Stiles isn't in this chapter-many people are probably outraged. Never fear, though: he WILL be in the next one. Things are about to get REALLY CRAZY. Sera finally knows who and what she is, but now its time for everyone else to know the truth. *hint, hint* Drama will ensue! And you might not like what happens next. Again, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed, or even taken the time to read my story. You all are fabulous, and should be treated as such!**

**~Harley**

**(P.S.-Oh, and if you guys enjoy Ignite and Extinguish, you should check out a lovely story called The Wild Side. I know many of you are reading it like I am, but if you aren't, give it a shot. It's one of my favorites. 3 Until next time...xoxoxo) **


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Fall from Grace**

_Once I was real;_

_Once I was somebody's child._

_Once I could feel_

_Some feeling once in a while._

_Once I was here;_  
_Once I was somebody's friend._

_Once I appear_

_I will be real once again._

_-Once, by Bradley Caleb Kane_

"What? How-how are you the scepter?" Scott's voice climbed an octave. He stood up suddenly, eyes never leaving mine. There was so much worry that rested inside of him, so much uncertainty. His feelings poured into me like a stream, revealing just how afraid he really was.

I pursed my lips, at loss for words. Because Scott wasn't just afraid for me-he was afraid of me, too.

"Doc?" I could hear the pleading tone clearly in the McCall boy's voice.

Deaton met Scott's gaze with a steady expression on his face. The vet scooped the ancient book he had been reading from up into his arms, flipping a couple pages ahead. His jaw was set, and his eyebrows were drawn together as he read through the faded text. When he finally did speak, his voice was somber to the point of alarm. "It is true, Scott. Seraphina is the scepter." Deaton sighed. "There are other pieces of the legend that aren't as well known. Pieces that have been whispered in secret over all these years. It was rumored that a short time before the peasant girl was murdered by her former lover, she went to see a Charm-Caster to help her hide the stolen scepter. She had discovered that the scepter's power had come from the life of a druid, so she wanted a druid's magical counterpart to assist her. The Charm-Caster had a vast amount of knowledge and wisdom, and not even the peasant girl had anticipated what he would suggest.

"The Charm-Caster woman told the peasant girl that the safest way to hide the scepter was to transfer its energy to another object . The girl had been confused by the Charmer's words. And then woman had explained that the object should be a person. The peasant girl quickly realized what her emissary had meant."

I squirmed in my seat, arms tightening around the now-placid puppy in my lap. Bullet nuzzled my hand and licked me fondly. I ran my fingers through his fur with a fervent kind of desperation, trying to calm my whirring thoughts. Scott had fallen back into his seat, seeming just as stunned as before. The plastic chair behind me was digging into my back, and the whole room smelled too strongly of antiseptic, but my main focus remained on the vet. The man that seemed to have all the answers...

"The Charm-Caster insisted that the peasant girl be the one to receive the energy," Deaton continued after a pause. "She knew the younger girl had a pure heart and wouldn't use her powers to harm. In fact, the two agree that after the transfer was completed, the peasant girl wouldn't use her new abilities at all, for fear that her secret would be discovered. The Charm-Caster woman knew that the peasant girl had become immeasurably powerful-the werewolf could feel people's emotions as her own, and sometimes even read their thoughts.

"I can't read anyone's thoughts," I murmured under my breath, blowing a stray curl away from my face.

Scott's eyes widened. "Does that mean-you can feel what other people are feeling?"

I nodded slowly, feeling more self-concious by the second. It was weird for me to admit I was a little bit more odd than other wolves.

_Ah, scratch that. I'm WAY more odd than other wolves._ Besides, no one else could taste people's emotions, as far as I knew. Even among the supernatural, I was an anomoly.

Deaton gave me a small smile. "Maybe you can't read anyone's mind yet, Seraphina. But you haven't been properly trained. Before today, you had no idea what you are capable of, so it's only logical that you haven't mastered, or even discovered, some of your skills. With time and instruction, you'll be able to manifest your full energy."

I dropped my eyes to my lap, looking down at Bullet with glassily. "What I don't understand...is how _I_ have the power that was given to my ancestor all those centuries ago," I whispered.

Deaton nodded, straightening up to his full height from his spot behind the examination table. Scott and I both looked at him anxiously, waiting for his response. After a moment of thought, the former Hale emissary made his way over to us and knelt down on the tile, book in his hands. He offered it to me, long fingers holding firmly onto the spine.

I took the text with shaking hands, almost afraid of the foreboding weight of it. Stroking the cracked spine, I read the cover: _Carminibus Fabulas Spiritualibus._

"Spells, Stories, and Spiritual Matters?" I asked, trying to recall the extensive Latin lessons Ophelia had given me a few years before.

"Yes. It's one of my most valued possessions, passed down in my families over generations. It's thought to be enchanted itself; some say it's over a thousand years old. Because of that, there are, unfortunately, only a few copies left in existence." Deaton stood up from his squatting position. "Hunters have their beastiaries, and Charm-Casters and druids-we have our legends and spells."

I flipped the aged book open to the marked spot Deaton had been reading from, eyes slowly scrolling over the yellowing pages. Most of the words were written in Latin, frustratingly enough. I could decipher most phrases, but I wasn't even close to being fluent in the language. I had five years of Spanish under my belt, per Ophelia's insistance that I be 'properly cultured', but she had only taught my a couple months' worth of Latin.

Squinting my eyes, I read the ending sentences with a frown on my face. Part of the problem was Bullet, who kept trying to wedge his furry face between the book of legends and myself. Huffing, I handed him over to an unprepared Scott and returned to the story. After I finally puzzled out the complicated jumble of words, my eyes traveled up from the book to Deaton's weary face.

"The power laid dormant in the peasant girl's children, and did so even after the werewolf woman died. It was passed down in their genes, in their blood, but the scepter's power was rarely ever seen as a dominant feature," I translated aloud. "There was only thought to be one other who possessed the dominant gene, but he was killed in childhood because...because his family was afraid of what he might do if he was aloud to survive to adulthood." I swallowed hard, trying to might back the bile rising in my throat. "And even though the scepter was never again found by the Devereauxs, they dedicate their lives to look for that which was lost so long ago. The Wolf King's dream to change humanity remains their greatest goal to this day. They still want their scepter, their _sceptrum_, back so they can turn humans without the bite."

With a shaky breath, I left the book fall shut and handed it back to Deaton, who took it readily. Scott and the dark-skinned emissary watched me with inquisitive stares. The McCall boy seemed to be speechless.

It was like I had always feared: _I_ was the threat. Deucalion and the other alphas were after me because of the powerful energy that I possessed. I _was_ the reason for the death of Erica and Heather-their suffering had been all my fault. Deucalion wanted to leave tiny wounds on me where no one would think to look, but sooner or later, he would get tired of using people that were indirectly related to me... He would start going after the people that I cared about deeply, like my brother. And then I would be nothing more than a pawn in his game, a piece that was imparative for him to keep safe.

_You are the dangerous one,_ a sinister voice in my mind whispered. _If you are gone-the would be no problem. Everyone would stay safe. And alive._

The crushing weight of guilt and debilitating fear clung to me like a blanket. How could I fix this? I rubbed my temples, sitting rigidly in the agonizing silence. Deaton had a pained expression on his face, and Scott's expression held pity and just a sliver of his former fear. He desperately wanted to believe that I could fix this. He felt like he _must_ believe that.

Coming back to Beacon Hills had been one of the most selfish things I had ever done. Ophelia had Dream-Walked to warn me against staying any longer than I had, but I hadn't listened to her. I had been so busy acting like a normal human girl that I hadn't seen the bigger picture right in front of me.

And now Ophelia's vision was coming true, piece by piece. It was true that Seers only got glimpses of the impending future, because the future is a fluid, changing thing, but sometimes events were set into motion that would play out directly as Seen. I was worried this would be one of those rare occurances; I was worried that the image of bodies piling up in the morgue hospital would become a reality.

"We are not going to let them have you."

I was jolted from my thoughts by Scott's words. I wrapped my arms around my torso, eyes locking on the beta next to me. The McCall boy looked fierce in that moment-his dark eyes were narrowed and his jaw was tightly clenched. The only thing out of place was the fluffy, wriggling dog in his lap. My lashes brushed my cheekbones as I looked down at my feet. Scott amazed me, time and time again. He was brave and selfless to the point of stupidity, but his good heart always seemed to make up for his lack of common sense. Scott McCall had always been more than a beta, ever since the night Peter had attacked him in the woods.

He should have wanted to throw me to...well, throw me to the wolves. But handing me over to the alpha pack would be more dangerous than guarding me, and I tried to tell myself that was the reason why Scott was so adament about protecting me. Yet the logical part of me knew that was only a tiny part of it.

Scott was a protector. He wanted to ensure my saftey out of the goodness of his heart. Maybe he felt llike he owed it to Derek. Or maybe Scott felt like he owed it to Stiles, who had taken a liking to a girl with too many secrets to count. My cheeks colored slightly at that thought. Or maybe, just maybe, Scott felt like he owed it to me, the lone Hale child to survive a life-wrecking tragedy...A girl that he had held by the throat in an alley way, demanding answers.

But if that was the case, Scott's assumption was ridiculous-he didn't owe me anything.

I was the one who had come in and taken what little peace there was left in this supernaturally screwed-up town. My very existence was a hazard to everyone; I was the problem. Scott was just the hero that had to clean up all the messes.

I blew a frustrated breath out from between pursed lips. "As much as I admire your testosterone-filled declaration, Scott, you have to realize that I need to protect myself, too. I don't-I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me." My arms dropped to my sides in defeat, and I dug my fingers into the course fabric of my jeans. "I understand you want to help, and I appreciate that. But if helping means risking everything, even your life-" I closed my eyes for a second. "You can't do that for me. You can't give up what's most important: keeping the people of this town safe. Don't throw yourself into the middle of all of this."

Scott set Bullet down on the tile floor, and the tiny dog scampered over to Deaton, who had been watching us mutely. Deaton squatted down and rubbed the pup with an absent look on his face. A tirade of emotions from Scott pelted me: desperation, fear, determination, hope... He was feeling it all. "I became apart of this the night I was bitten by your uncle," he pointed out. "I've had enough near-death experiences, and losses, and disappointments in this past year that I wouldn't wish facing the alpha pack alone on anyone." His stare was firm, but his voice was soft. "We're not going to let you do this on your own, Sera."

Scott's use of my nickname nearly sent me over the edge. It was a term of endearment, something that I didn't deserve from him. My throat constricted, and my eyes began to burn traitorously. It didn't help that Scott was gazing at me with those wide eyes of his, which were now silently pleading for me to agree with him.

"Thank you," I choked out, still close to tears._ Dammit, McCall. How can I argue with you when you give me looks that rival Bullet's puppy eyes?_

Before I could vent my frustrations, however, Deaton stood up and intoned: "I believe your friends outside are growing restless, Seraphina."

I mentally face-palmed-I had completely forgotten about Boyd and Isaac! Telling them I would only be a few minutes had been a huge mistake; I had been in the animal clinic for more than a half an hour. Isaac was anxious-if I focused hard enough, I could pick up the barest hints of his emotions from where I stood-and Boyd was probably supremely pissed buy this point. If he didn't like me before, he sure as hell wouldn't like me any better for making him wait in the Mom Mobile for nearly an hour.

Pushing myself to my feet, I grumbled under my breath: "I'm such a genius. Great. They probably want to murder me now..."

Scott shook his head upon hearing the words, an amused glint in his eyes. "I'll go talk to them," he said with a chuckle. The beta hoisted himself to his feet and shuffled around me, fingers comfortingly grazing my elbow as he passed. Scott looked over his shoulder when he reached the door. "I'm going to tell them to go ahead and leave. I'll take you home after you finish talking with Doc," Scott offered.

"But-" I began to protest. Scott was already out the door, though, so I didn't even bother to finish. He had no idea that I wasn't planning to go back home tonight; I was planning on returning to Derek's loft, so riding with Isaac and Boyd made more sense than Scott trekking to the heart of town this late at night. "Stupid boy," I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Deaton laughed quietly. "Ah, yes. A woman's answer to most things involving men."

I gave a half-hearted scowl, unable to think of an arguement. Deaton ran his fingers across the book of legends, which once again rested on the examination table, and gave a small smile. The puppy at his feet began to nibble at his shoelaces, but he paid him no attention. Bullet scampered over to me after a moment, now completely disinterested with Deaton's motionless feet. The dog scrabbled at my ankles until I finally took him in my arms again. In that time, my eyes never once left the vet.

"You're taking this better than I expected," Deaton mused. His voice was gentle.

Shifting my weight to the balls of my feet, I grimaced. "I'm not sure what to do...what to say." Bullet nibbled at my ear playfully. "There's just so much to take in and understand-it's hard for me to wrap my mind around everything that is happening."

Deaton nodded sagely, taking Scott's seat and folding his hands in his lap. I didn't sit down again; I was too jittery to stay in one spot for long. "It is difficult for me to understand as well, Seraphina. What you can do-well, not even I thought it was possible. It has been centuries since another scepter has lived, and we know very little about what you will be capable of. The only thing we're for sure of is that you are-"

"Dangerous," I finished.

"I was going to say powerful."

"Sometimes they're the same thing," I informed the druid, an edge to my voice.

Deaton sighed tiredly. "But not always."

I dropped my gaze, playing with a loose string at the bottom of my Paramore T-shirt with the hand that wasn't holding Bullet. "It doesn't matter; I shouldn't have come back. If I would have just stayed with the Sinclairs, Deucalion would have never found me-"

"Don't underestimate him," the vet warned. "Deucalion would have found you sooner or later. Your return to Beacon Hills has only ensured that you will have a way to fight back. It's better this way, Seraphina. You might have very well saved us all."

I tried to keep my breathing steady. "I don't want any more people to die because of me." The words were so hollow that I almost didn't recognize them as my own. Deaton watched me carefully, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I saw my family, Erica, Heather...face after face filled with unspeakable terror.

Deaton leaned forward and rest his elbows on his knees, loafers squeaking loudly as he did so. My dark hair shielded my face from him mostly, but the kind druid must have seen the pain that rested there. Then the vet stood up and reached out a dark hand to push my chin up so that I met his gaze. "You hold yourself responsible fro things that are not in your control," he murmured. "There is deep guilt, a misplaced blame, that lies inside of your heart, Seraphina." I inhaled sharply at his observation, taking in the crisp scent of Old Spice cologne. It reminded me of the kind my father used to wear on occasion. "That kind of pain-it festers inside of you," he continued knowingly. "And whether you realize it or not, it can destroy you just as easily as Deucalion could." Deaton's eyes pierced me.

Swallowing, I nodded. Deaton pulled his hand away and gave me a slight smile.

"How-how does it work? How can I...turn people without giving them the bite?" I blurted out suddenly. "I'm not an alpha, and..."

Deaton's face became instantly serious once again. "From what I can understand, being a beta won't interfer with your abilities. Yuo're fully capable of turning someone right now, if you wished to. But being an alpha-" Deaton's expression darkened. "That is part of the reason why Deucalion wants to win you over so badly; he believes your transition to alphahood will make you nearly unstoppable. and as for _how_ you would turn humans into werewolves without the bite...I'm not sure. The answer has been lost over time, but the basis of such a procedure includes some kind of massive energy transfer. If you find a way to balance your other gifts, perhaps the answer will present itself to you."

_Other gifts?_ I couldn't even force myself to ask the question. With a sigh, I nodded. The former Hale emissary had helped me to the best of his ability, and I appreciated the wisdom he had to offer. Now the only thing I could do was prepare myself for the battle to come and hope that I could learn to control my 'gifts'.

Bullet licked my cheek, as if sensing my increased distress. I stroked the fluffy white dog affectionately, and then I held him out to Deaton, my stomach clenching as I thought of giving up the puppy's warmth and comfort. "If Kyle doesn't come back for him..." I trailed off.

Deaton flashed a perfect white smile at me. "You'll be the first one I notify," he said pleasantly.

Weirdly, the thought of adopting Bullet as my own eased my nerves a bit. With all the stress that I had been experiencing, having a furry (animal) companion could easily calm me.

_You can barely take care of yourself most of the time,_ a tiny, irksome voice reminded me. _And you want to bring an innocent animal into the nightmare that is your life?_

After Deaton had collected Bullet, I folded my arms across my chest yet again. "Thank you," I told him, my voice earnest. "I know that helping the Hale family used to be your job but...I want to thank you for helping me, even though you didn't have to."

Deaton looked down at Bullet, thoughtfully running his fingers through the dog's fur. "I always took my job very seriously," the vet finally told me.

I deflated a bit at the disinterested way he said 'job'.

"But," he continued, making me look up, "working with the Hales-Talia especially-had always been more than a job-it was a pleasure. Just like helping you has been, Seraphina."

I reached out for the handle of the door at my side, at ease now that the former-emissary had clarified. "Thank you," I repeated, sincerity dripping from my words.

There was an almost imperceptible pause, and then Deaton replied: "You're welcome. Good-bye, Seraphina." I cast a long look over my shoulder, drinking in the image of the dark-skinned man standing a few feet away. His warm, but slightly world-weary smile, dredged up a memory that I hadn't even known to exist:

_I'm sitting on someone's shoulders, the night air warm and thick with summer heat. One of my tiny hands points up to the brilliant stars in the night sky, and I coo in awe at the sight of them. The person holding me aloft on their shoulders laughs at my delight. Somewhere in the tiny building behind me, I can hear my mother pacing the floor. I can feel that she's upset, and the severity of her emotions make me whimper. The man whose shoulders I'm sitting on squeezes my leg comfortingly. "It's alright, Seraphina. Your mother will come out here in minute, don't worry. But look-look at the stars and make a wish." The dark-skinned man bounced me a bit, and I giggled and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing with all my might._

"Good-bye, Dr. Deaton." I twisted the door handle and slipped out of the examination room hurriedly, not wanting to keep Scott waiting any longer. The lights in the waiting room had been turned off, but I had no problem manuevering around the reception desk and other obstacles as I made my way to the exit. The bell jingled above my head when I pushed open the screen door and stepped out into the darkness, signaling my departure.

It took my eyes only a second to locate Scott, who was standing directly in the center of the parking lot, his head ducked low as he examined a glowing object in his hands. His phone, I assumed. Shoving my hands deep into my pocket, I made my way over to the McCall boy without hestitation. "Sorry that took so long," I offered as a greeting.

Scott shrugged one shoulder, fingers still working the keys of his phone. "No problem. Ready to go home?" His brown eyes peered up at me questioningly.

I winced. "Uh...about that. I wasn't actually planning on going home tonight. I think the alpha pack may still be staking out my apartment, so I was going to go crash at Derek's loft."

Scott shoved his phone in his back pocket, eyebrows climbing his forehead as his mouth opened. "Before you ask-I was going to ride back with Isaac and Boyd, but you walked out of the room before I could tell you so."

The McCall boy grinned faintly. "Well, I was actually just going to ask if Derek knows you're coming back, but thanks for clearing up why I'm wasting my gas."

Embarrassment washed over me, but I simply rolled my eyes. I could tell that Scott was trying to keep things light so that my mind wouldn't wander back to dark things. Like the fact that Deucalion wanted to use me as an unstoppable weapon of destruction. "No," I finally sighed. "He doesn't know that I'm coming back." My mouth twisted into a frown. "I just hope Peter's not still there."

"He shouldn't be; he doesn't live there," Scott reassured me. "He's renting a place somewhere else." There was sympathy in Scott's eyes as he rocked back onto his heels. Then he gestured to the neon green dirtbike a few yards away. "Well, we should get going, then. My mom is probably wondering where the hell I am. She gets really anxious if I'm not home by a specific time, especially now that she knows...about what I am."

Scott grimaced a bit and turned his back on me, taking even strides until he reached the bike. But I couldn't follow him. My feet were rooted to the cracked asphalt, and my lips parted in realization as I continued to stare. Scott tucked a beat-up helmet under one arm and turned the key to the metal beast with his free hand. The engine roared to life, snarling with almost as much ferocity as a rabid dog. My stomach plummeted. How could I forget that Scott drove a death trap?

"Coming?" he called, throwing one leg over the seat with ease and grace.

"Oh, no way," I told him, shaking my head vigorously.

Scott's eyebrows knit together in confusion. But then he saw the way I was eying his dirtbike, and he gave me an encouraging smile. "Oh, c'mon, Seraphina. It's just a dirtbike."

My apprehensive look turned into a scowl. I made my way over to stand beside the boy, huffing slightly at his accurate description. "I know what it is," I retorted, my voice raising to be heard over the deafening noise of Scott's motor. Even with my werewolf senses, the racket made it hard to hear. _And_ it gave me a severe headache. "I don't have a helmet, first off," I pointed out. "Secondly, Stiles said you're a maniac on this thing."

Scott gave me a disgruntled look."And you actually believe him?"

I placed my hands on my hips. "When the kid can produce pictures of you wrecking into a tree the first time you rode it, I think I have every right to believe him."

"...You can have my helmet, then."

"_Scott,_" I groaned.

"Look, it's either this or walking, and I don't know about you, but I'd perfer not to walk home in the dark and get mauled by psychotic alphas." The beta patted the seat behind him. "I'll go slow, I promise."

Frustration crept up inside of me; I knew Scott was right. I shot one last glance at the clinic, and then I whirled around and stomped up to the dangerous machine. Swinging my leg of the seat just as Scott had done, I mumbled incoherent curses under my breath. Scott passed me his helmset, and I slid it on without a split second of hestitation. I wrinkled my nose as I inhaled the scent of Axe aftershave. "God, trying to smother me to death?" I yelled over the noise, leaning closer to the McCall boy. "Your helmet reeks!"

"I got it at a second-hand shop," Scott laughed. "You should have smelled it before!"

That revelation did nothing to ease my distaste. "Wonderful."

"Hold on tight!" Scott called, revving the engine. Before I could ask 'to what' we were tearing out of the parking lot. In panic, I grabbed the closest thing to me-which so happened to be Scott himself. My arms encircled his waist, and I let out a string of profanities that would have made even Derek frown in disapproval. Scott leaned forward, and I tightened my grip on him so that I wouldn't fly off the back. He was chuckling; I could feel his chest rumbling beneath my hands, and that infuriated me.

"What happened...to going slow?!" I finally managed to get out, mostly breathless.

Scott turned his head slightly to the side, and his eyes sparked golden as the streetlights reflected in them. "This _is_ me going slow!"

I wanted to punch him, but I was too terrified to let go of his waist to do so. His stomach was hard beneath his T-shirt and jacket, and thinking that almost made my hands go back to my sides involuntarily. Blushing furiously, I cursed this whole entire night in my head. It was just one thing after another, honestly.

We sped passed buildings and trees at record speed, and I half expected Sheriff Stilinski to pull us over before Scott could even think about getting into the heart of town. At one point he threw his hands up in the air, and I screamed shrilly, perfectly convinced that we were going to die, until he gave a wild whoop and once again started steering. "Try it!" He had shouted over the din, and I was so spooked that the only thing I could think was that the beta had finally lost his damn mind. But then I saw what he was trying to do-once again, Scott was aiming to take my mind off of the awful events of the night. He wasn't trying to scare me or make me angry; he was trying to make me act like a teenager.

I took a deep breath, and, feeling suddenly wild, threw my hands up just as he had instructed. The wind whipped my hair around my face, and my fingers reached for the dark sky above. Exhileration filled me to the brim almost instantaneously, and I gave a cry that was akin ot the one Scott had let out earlier. My knees were still squeezed firmly on either side of him, but my upper body had stopped fighting the current of air, and now... I felt _free._ The sensation coursed through me, pumping through my veins until my very thoughts were nothing but a jumbled mess, and nothing but screams of laughter came from my mouth.

For a moment, I was not the scepter, or a werewolf, or even an orphan. I was a teenage girl on the back of a dirtbike, hands in the air, giggles spilling from me. Scott was a good guy, a good friend, for helping me get rid of all the worries that had been plaguing me. In a little while, I would have to explain to Isaac and my brother, and maybe Boyd, what I was and what I was capable of.

But for now, I had no intentions of thinking of such things.

"Scott... go faster!"

It's unfortunate to know that the fantasy could only hold up for so long. When Scott had dropped me off, I had thanked him and waved good-bye, heading up to Derek's loft with a little spring in my step. But after a few flights of stairs, the adrenaline seemed to evaporate from my system, and I became calm and serious yet again. Derek had been, once again, surprised to see me on his doorstep, though this time he held the door open without so much as a word. I had explained the long and complicated story of the Wolf King's scepter to both Derek and Isaac-Boyd had gone back to his father's house, and Peter had disappeared to God only knows where-and they had both gaped at me in astonishment. Well, Isaac had gaped, at least. Derek had given me a somewhat skeptical look, followed by a pondering one. He had demanded that I stay with him until further notice, claiming that staying alone in my apartment would be 'completely idiotic, Sera'.

I hadn't argued with him. I hadn't wanted to, really. I felt...safe, when I was in the same house as my older brother. Or at least comforted. It was like the times I would have nightmares as a child, and he would stay up and stroke my hair and whisper that he would watch over me. I knew that things weren't like that anymore, but I longed to be near Derek. And so I had agreed to stay, warning him that I would need to get some of my possessions early the next morning to get ready for school. He had grunted in what I assumed was compliance, and then had instructed Isaac to show me to the room upstairs. The Lahey boy had done so with one of his tentaitive smiles, dirty blond curls glittering like gold in the dim lighting.

Isaac had taken me on a tour of the room that was up the spiral staircase; it wasn't very big. The walls were bare as could be, almost more plain than the walls of my apartment, and the bed had a frayed quilt covering a lumpy, twin-sized mattress. Wedged in the corner of the room was a tiny bookshelf, filled with some of Derek's favorite novels, and opposite of the bed was a bathroom. It looked kind of like a closet, similiar to mine at home. I had thanked Isaac and watched as he retreated back down the stairs, finally collapsing on the worn bed when he was out of sight. For some reason, he and Derek hadn't looked at me like I was a monster when they found out the news of me being the scepter. Isaac had given me a look laced with sympathy, and my brother had seemed confused and unsettled, but not disgusted.

I had fallen asleep with my hand clutching the ruby necklace Amelia had given to me, trying to think of the good times I had as a Hale. When I awoken, I had been panicked, mostly because I had no idea what time it was. After running down the stairs in a mad rush, I had been greeted by a bleary-eyed Isaac at the bottom of the steps. He had what looked to be my whole closet in his hands, a slight frown on his lips. "Derek asked me to get your stuff," he had sighed.

I had shot my brother, who was lounging on the couch, a glare. Derek had merely shrugged at my look and tossed a packaged item in my direction. Reflexively, I had snatched the thing before it had hit the ground, my eyes raking over the object. It was a brand new cell phone, announcing to be the best woldwide. I had raised my eyebrows, but Derek had just said: "And now you have a cell phone. Because it's _necessary._" Rolling my eyes, I had grabbed the first outfit I saw from the place where Isaac had set my clothes on the table, and I sprinted up the stairs to the shower. After I had finished, I had slipped on my skinny jeans and loose, indian-print green tank top and dashed down the stairs, hair still dripping. Make-up wasn't a prioreity this morning, as Derek had growled something about being tardy under his breath.

The three of us had piled into the Mom Mobile in record time, and when Derek had dropped us off, demanding that Isaac kept a close eye on me, and on the alpha twins, I had wanted to groan. I had _known _he would be crazily over-protective after I had informed him of what I was, and what Deucalion wanted me for. But Isaac had gave me a crooked smile and insisted that I give Derek a break. "He's just looking out for you," he had told me as we walked up the steps to the front double doors.

"I know," I had grumbled back. "That's what I'm afraid of."

But as it turned out, I had much more to be afraid of. Isaac had walked me all the way to my locker, chatting about aimless, unimportant things until I shooed him away, proclaiming that keeping an eye on me did not mean stalking me throughout the school day. Isaac had grinned, not seeming offended at all, and had finally left me alone. It was then that I had realized that I was standing by my locker, at school, only a few feet away from where a certain Stilinski boy's locker was. The human boy that I had kissed before I had known I was even more dangerous than anticipated. The boy who I couldn't let see me.

"Oh, crap," I muttered, working my combination fervently. I grabbed my books for Chemistry II and AP English with as much speed as I could possibly manage, and then I practically sprinted to Harris' room. Mr. Harris gave me a disapproving sneer as a greeting, but I didn't even care at the moment. Operation Avoid-the-Quirky-Yet-Thoughtful-And-Funny-Human-Bo y-Who-Kissed-Me-And-May-Acutally-Like-Me was under way, and I couldn't afford any distractions. I took my seat in the back of the room and got all my supplies ready, eyes never leaving my desk. Even when Stiles slid into the room five minutes after the tardy bell rang, I didn't look up. But I could picture him flailing his arms as I listened to him try to explain to Mr. Harris how his jacket had gotten caught in his locker. Chemistry passed in a blur of formulas and notes up until twenty minutes before the bell rang.

Up until I heard the piercing scream.

I jolted forward in my desk, dropping my textbook and pencil to the ground in bewilderment. Harris narrowed his beady eyes in my direction, but he didn't reprimand me or even check out the window to see what the screaming was about. In fact, no one in the class seemed to have heard the blood-curdling screech but me, which meant that the source of the noise was decently far away. I waited three heartbeats before I made a decision. "Mr. Harris?" I asked, voice echoing in the silence. "May I be excused? I think I'm going to be sick."

Harris huffed and adjusted his thick glasses, acting like my question was of the highest offense. "Very well, Sinclair," he finally grunted.

Chest constricting, I grabbed my books in a rush and jumped to my feet, haste nearly sending me flying through the air. Everyone's eyes were on me as I darted out of the classroom, and I tasted the sharpness of concern on my tongue, the flavor coming from Stiles' direction. There was a bit of relief there, too-now he thought I was avoiding him because I was feeling sick, and not because I was afraid to talk to him after what had transpired between us. I gritted my teeth as I bolted through the empty hallways, heading for the front door. The screaming had come from outside-of that I was very sure. The only question was...where?

I rammed into the doors with too much force, sending them flying open in an all-too-dramatic kind of exit. My arms throbbed for a millisecond before the broken blood vessels I had just given myself began to mend. For some reason, the air had only seemed to grow colder as the sun had risen, and I seriously began to regret not carrying my jacket along with me. I paused outside on the concrete steps, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. I was listening as closely as I could, trying my best to tune out the blaring noise from inside the school. And then I heard it again. Maybe not so much as a scream this time, but more of a shrieking sob, and then muffled crying. My eyes flew open, and I was running again, my legs pumping vigorously as I headed around the back of the school and into the woods.

Whatever was going on, it was alarming, and generally had caused such a disruption that all emotions in the area were going haywire, sending my thoughts askew. I had no idea why I was trying to find the source of the noise; I could get detention or worse from just leaving the school grounds. But something in me needed to know where the screams were coming from, and why the were being emitted at all.

I hurdled over fallen logs and other obstacles, kicking up leaves in my wake as I climbed the huge hill in front of me. Leaves swirled above my head as well, being tossed up by sudden gusts of wind every now and then. I shook my head and tried to focus on my breathing instead of the emotional turmoil flooding my senses. When I reached the top of the near-mountain, I wasn't out of breath, but I was panting a little. I swept my dark hair out of my eyes and scanned the ground below me, seeing nothing but trees for half a second. But then off to the right, there was movement, and I spotted a huge crowd of people all surrounding something on the ground. My blood ran cold.

I half-stumbled down the hill, werewolf grace muted by the sheer, undiluted fear that poured into me from every direction. This scene reminded me too much of the vision Ophelia had shown me, in which I had been lying dead on the ground, eyes staring glassily into oblivion. I was terrified to even approach the group of kids, who I now could see were apart of the gym class. They were dressed in jackets and sweats and running shoes, their faces holding nothing but wide-eyed disbelief and horror. Pushing my way into the crowd, I tried to act like I belonged among them, even though I was lacking in the warm clothing department.

The sobbing seemed to be coming from the middle of the circle. It took another few seconds, but I finally managed to poke and prod enough to clear a path. I peered my head around a tall boy's shoulder, standing on tiptoe just to get a good look. There, lying on the ground, was a boy, and holding him in her arms was a girl...Chelsea.

I shoved the tall boy away with such force that I thought he would fly head-first into the ground. Wasting no time, I knelt down next to a wailing Chelsea, finally getting a good look at the boy she was rocking in her arms. Kyle Jones was pale and unmoving, his eyes gazing unblinkingy up at his girlfriend, his lips an awful shade of blue. His chesnut hair was slightly disheveled, but other than that, there were no sign of a struggle. He was still wearing the jeans and T-shirt he'd had on the day before, except now they were rumpled and creased in a way that was disturbingly un-Kyle-like. From what I could tell, there were no wounds on his body. But death was glaringly visible on every inch of him.

Chelsea, on the other hand, looked as though someone had dragged her through hell and back. Her short auburn hair had fallen down from its high ponytail, hanging in lank pieces all around her face. Her eyes were full of tears that continously spilled down her cheeks, and her chin wobbled violently as she sobbed and whimpered. Chelsea rocked Kyle back and forth, whispering brokenly to a corpse that could not hear her. I wanted to reach out and pry her hands from him, because it wasn't healthy for her to see him like he was. I had slapped my hand over my mouth without even realizing it, and now I was having a hard time prying it away so I could form words. Because, once again, the murder was of someone that I had known. Maybe not closely, but I had known Kyle, and known of Heather, and now it seemed as though the world was spinning backwards because here was the vivacious girl who had greeted me so happily the first day I had sat at Lydia's table...here she was, a completely distraught mess.

Kyle's somewhat cocky grin flashed through my mind, and then I imagined the way he would sometimes kiss Chelsea when she was in the middle of a sentence, or the way he and Danny could spout off sports stats to each other like they were a second language. It was an awful sort of loss, because I didn't know the boy that well, and I would never get the chance to. He had left Bullet at the animal clinic last night without reason, and instead of being worried about his sudden disappearance, I had pushed the thought of Kyle aside and had focused on my own issues. And now here I was not even 24 hours later, staring at Chelsea as she rocked and whimpered and begged for Kyle to wake up. Just wake up.

I stumbled to my feet, unable to fight the god-awful feeling clawing inside of my chest, burning away my resolve like acid. However Kyle had been murdered, I knew one thing: it had to do with the alpha pack. Deucalion must have once again became impatient, and had taken out his frustrations on someone who was linked to me in a seemingly unimportant way. I knew what I was now, but maybe Deucalion just wanted to hear me say that I was what he had been searching for...that I was the scepter. Whatever the case, he had taken yet another innocent life, and I wouldn't stand for anymore. I was afraid of what may happen next, who the next victim may be...Scott? Allison? Stiles? My brother? The list was endless, and thinking of the possiblitites only made me feel even more sick.

The world whirled in a dizzying array of colors, and for a second, I thought my legs were going to give out from beneath me. But then there were strong hands on my elbows, holding me upright. Isaac and Scott flanked me on either side, their faces grim as they took in Chelsea and the boy that had once been her boyfriend. I was shaking, staring dazedly ahead as Coach Finstock came racing out of the woods, yelling for people to back away. He had the sheriff in tow, and Stiles' father was grimly ordering evacuation of the premises as well. I stepped behind Scott, breathing shallowly through my nose. "He can't see me here," I managed to choke. The beta boys looked at me with raised eyebrows. "He-he'll know something's up," I explained weakly. "Sheriff Stilinksi is very smart; he'll start making connections. And the last thing we need is...any more questions."

"Go back to class, Seraphina," Isaac murmured, brilliant blue eyes holding a sympathy that I didn't deserve. "We'll make sure he doesn't know you were even here."

I clenched my fists so tightly that I felt my nails dig into the soft flesh, spilling blood. Putting that much pressure on my books when they were still in my arms felt like I was crushing my lungs. My eyes once again darted over to Chelsea and Kyle. Sheriff Stilinski was now gently prying the two apart while Chelsea screamed incoherently. It was a pitiful scene, and it nearly brought me to tears. The alpha pack wanted me. And with all the pain and suffering going on, I was half tempted to give them what they really wanted. As I turned around, I noticed two identical forms standing at the edge of the chaos. Ethan and Aiden were staring at Kyle's limp form with confusion written across their faces. I bared my teeth slightly, fully convinced they were acting, until their confusion left an unpleasant tang in my mouth.

Strangely, their befuddlement was real. Which only drew me to the conclusion that Deucalion had acted alone in Kyle's murder, not revealing his intentions to his pack. As I hurried away form the scene, I mulled over each fact in my head: Ethan and Aiden seemed mildly unsettled by the sight of Kyle's dead body, and there were no visible signs of struggle or, actually, death. I hadn't even spotted bruises around the boy's neck from stranglation. Kyle's death was very different from Heather's brutal throat slashing, and I couldn't help but to take that into consideration. In fact, Kyle's death almost seemed to be dealing with internal factors. My head was spinning a million miles per mminute by the time I made it back to the school.

Fortunately, the gym doors had been kept unlocked so I could enter without so much of a problem. I reentered the hallway just as the bell began to trill for second block. My books were still firmly tucked against my chest, amost a part of me now that I had held them so tightly for so long. My movements were sluggish as I shuffled into Ms. Anders' classroom, taking my seat with a vacant look on my face. My retinas were burned with the image of Kyle's and Heather's wide eyes staring at me. Ms. Anders, a woman who had recently graduated from UCLA, was chipper and tiny and generally an interesting teacher, but at the moment, even her movements seemed dull. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, a solemn reminder that I lived while everyone else around me didn't have the same pleasure. A few seconds after my grim obsevation, the desk next to my shifted and creaked, causing me to look up from the sheets of paper scattered haphazardly over my desk.

Allison was sitting in her seat next to me, pulling at the tight fabric of her long-sleeved sweater and adjusting her books. She didn't look up from her textbook as she adressed me, otherwise she would have seen the hollowness in my eyes. "I got detention for falling asleep in French," she informed me with a sigh. "Wonderful, huh? Ms. Morrell really has it out for me since I saw her at the bank the other night." Allison grinned, tucking a strand of her short brown hair behind her ear. "I guess it makes sense-" Allison finally took in my expression, and her smile quickly dissolved. "Seraphina? What happened?" she demanded in an urgent murmur.

Swallowing proved to be a very difficult task. I kept my eyes up on the white board when I said: "They found Kyle's body in the woods just a little bit ago. I-I heard Chelsea scream, and I ran out of class to see what was happening. That was why...why he left Bullet at the clinic last night. He was taken by Deucalion. He-he's dead." The words sounded wrong on my lips, but I couldn't change their meaning. I couldn't erase the horror of what I had just witnessed. Allison knew what I was talking about; I had instructed Scott to fill both her and Lydia in the moment he arrived at school. Allison knew that I was the one causing problems, and as a Hunter, or even a former Hunter, she should have wanted to give me over to the alphas, or at least wanted to kill me so their reign of terror would cease. Yet Allison Argent didn't stare at me with loathing. She seemed a little wary, perhaps, but she had been comfortable enough with me that she had offered me a smile a moment before.

Now she was staring at me, stunned. "Oh my God. Kyle..." Allison bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed. "Chelsea...oh, Chelsea is..."

"She was holding him," I informed her. "The whole entire time I was there, she was holding him. She didn't-didn't want to let go." My voice broke on that last word.

Allison put her head in her hands and mumbled a string a words in French. It sounded like a prayer. We didn't say anything else the rest of class, but we made eye contact every now and then, and something about the way Allison stared at me made me feel hopeful. If a former Hunter could look at a werewolf like that-it gave me hope that I wasn't such a monster after all. It didn't matter, though. I was still a danger to be around, regardless.

When the lunch bell rang, Allison gave me an apologetic look. "I have to go to detention. If you could-sit with Lydia today-I'm sure that would really help." I wanted to ask her just how the hell my presence would be comforting, but instead, I nodded. The school was eerily quiet when I entered the cafeteria. People seemed terrified to talk above a whisper. Death was definitely hanging over the school like a cloud, whisking away any hope for normal conversation. I tried to keep a neutral look on my face as I made my way over to Lydia's normal table, which had become Gawk Central. Everyone was seated in their ususual spots-there was Ashley next to Ellie, and Danny in the far corner, and Lydia at her rightful place at the head of the table. But there was too many vacancies. Ethan and Aiden were no where to be seen, Allison's normally spot was empty, and, of course...no one sat where Chelsea and Kyle ususally did.

I sat down beside Lydia without a word, feeling the tumultuous emotions that were pounding through every one of my new-found friends. Lydia blinked and looked over at me, her noramally bright emerald eyes dull and red-rimmed with grief. Her full pink lips were pursed in a look that begged to spill broken words, but she said nothing, simply scooting her salad around with her plastic fork. Danny had his head in his hands, not making eye contact with anyone. From where I sat, I could tell he was crying. Even Ellie and Ashley, who normally teased and taunted eack other relentlessly, were silently. Their faces were splotchy with clear evidence that they had heard the news. I could barely meet any of their gazes.

Mechanically, I got up from the table and went to go stand in line. My head was still buzzing with grief-ridden comments, but I managed to drag my feet through the motion of walking. I stared down at the floor tiles and tried to blend and disappear just like I had done before. But honestly, there was no use in hiding. I couldn't hide from the one thing I desperately needed to get away from-myself.

And, of course, Lydia Martin, who can part crowds with a simple look of disdain. She stomped up to me in line, her five inch nude heels clicking the ground with agression. Even though she was obviously still upset about Kyle, there was a determination that flared in her eyes when she stopped in front of me. People turned their heads in our direction, interested, but Lydia shot them a hideous look and they all returned to what they had been doing. "You need to tell him." I blinked at how forceful her words were.

"What do you-"

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about," she snapped. She jabbed her index finger to the other side of the cafeteria. I turned around, confused, until my eyes locked on what she was pointing at. Or, more accurately, who. Stiles was seated next to Scott at their usual table, and he was animatedly waving his hands, no doubt trying to come up with a theory for what was happening. Scott was simply nodding in agreement, dark head bobbing up and down repeatedly. I briefly wondered where Isaac and Boyd were, but the thought soon escaped my mind when Lydia grabbed my arm and whirled me around to face her again.

I could have easily ripped myself from her grip, but I let her hold onto me, watching as anger and fear waged battle in her eyes. "You need to tell Stiles what you are."

"Lydia..." I began, a sigh in my voice.

She pushed the same accusing finger against my shoulder, shaking her head furiously. Her red curls bounced around her shoulders. "No. You are not going to say that you can't. Because that is a total lie. You just _don't want to tell him_. You're afraid you'll lose him, as a friend or a boy-toy or whatever you want him for." I opened my mouth, but Lydia raised her hand to silence me. "Oh, no, I'm not done. For whatever reason, you picked Stilinski, and, who cares, that's fine." She tossed her hair expertly over one shoulder, glaring at me. "But what is not fine is lying to cover your ass because you want to keep him out of everything that's happening. Newflash: Stiles has been apart of this since day one. And, as crazy as it sounds, he knows what he's doing because-hello!-he obviously hasn't died yet." Lydia placed her manicured hands on her hips. "If you keep him in the dark for any longer, Seraphina, it's going to be more dangerous for him. "He'll-he'll end up just like Kyle. He has a right to know what's going on. And if you won't tell him, Scott will. Or I will. Don't doubt that for a second."

"I know. I know." My voice sounded like a piece of broken glass had been dragged down my throat. I was having trouble inhaling the right amount of oxygen.

"Confrontation issues."

"What?" My eyes found Lydia's.

"You have confrontation issues. No, don't give me that look. It's true. If you look at it fom a psychological perspective, it makes a ton of sense." Lydia held up her hand. "First, you experienced a traumatic and life-changing event, losing the only family that you had." She ticked off a finger. "Then, you were forced to run for you life and become apart of a family you didn't know. You tried to distance yourself from everyone and everything, because you were afraid that you would lose it, just like you lost your family. And now, when you start to finally let people in, you keep just enough secrets to distance yourself emotionally, because you _cannot handle_ being alone. But you want to hold onto a tiny sliver of something that is yours and yours only, in case you are left with nothing once again."

I gaped at Lydia Martin. Not because I was angry with her-I really wasn't-but because she had pinpointed my weaknesses and fears so easily, with a perfectly logical explanation as an excuse. I couldn't have argued with her even if i wanted to because everything she had just stated was the undeniable truth. I kept secrets because I was scared that if I didn't, I would be just like an open book. And everyone knows deep down that open books can easily have pages ripped right out of them, disconnecting from the spine and everything else vital. I hid within myself because I felt like it was the only safe place in my life, which turned out to be totally false. I was not safe inside my own mind-I was not safe anywhere. This world is a place of innumerable dangers and perils, and all this time I had been hiding myself to try to avoid the unavoidable. Just like death, truth came when least expected. It was the one thing semi-safe in life, and I had been throwing it on the back burner for too long now.

It was time I told Stiles the truth. Lydia was right-he deserved it. He, of all people, deserved to know what I struggled to admit to myself every day. I knew that my secrets and lies had built up a friendship and maybe even something more between us, and if I stripped all that away...how would he react? Could he ever look at me the same way?

_The fault will be mine if he can't. _It had been my choice to leave Stiles in the dark, and it would be my decision to bring him to the light. Maybe that was why Scott had put it off-he knew that it was my job to fix the mess I had made.

And, my God, what a mess I had made...

After a moment of intense silence, I offered Lydia a half-hearted smile. "You're right. But I guess you know that already, huh?" She simply shrugged. "You know," I mused, "when I first met you, Lydia, I thought you were an extraordinary bitch with an intense need to prove herself. But now I know that you're smart and have an impeccable fashion taste, and that you really do care about-"

"Let's not get sappy," the Martin girl said with a huff. "It will be incredibly horrific if everyone sees you confessing your love for me."

But behind Lydia's snide words, I saw a tiny smile.

What had occurred today had shaken the school at its foundations once again, but some people, like Lydia and Stiles and the rest of my friends-they were resilient. I guess it has something to do with the nature of a person, but even if we go through the most horrendous experiences, we can still come out alive. We weren't whole, necessarily. No one ever said that we had to be perfect, though. I think that's the beauty of this world-somehow, we survive when it seems impossible. We defy all odds and mend. Because some of us are broken, but we are not irreparable. Some of us are resilient in the face of danger.

I wanted to be resilient like my friends. I wanted to be reliable, and trustworthy, and honest, and loved. So I vowed to myself-as Lydia and I walked back to our lunch table, pefectly in step-that I would tell the truth to Stiles tonight. I owed it to Heather and Kyle, and all the other innocent souls who died over the years without ever knowing the cause of their demise. But mostly, I owed the truth to Stiles, the boy who had lost so much in such a short span of time, only to have his world tipped upside down time and time again.

He needed to know.

The quiet days at Beacon Hills had seemingly ended. Later on in the afternoon, during third block, there had been another disturbing skirmish. I had been bent over my AP U.S. history work, scribbling down answers with tremedous speed, when suddenly, there was a loud roar from the hallway. It sounded like a cross between a jet plane taking off and an angry tiger, so I immediately knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good. Miss Yancy, our teacher, had ripped open the door with annoyance on her face, glaring outside the classroom to see what all the ruckus was about. But then she had gone slack-jawed, and our class pushed itself out into the hallway just to see what the hell was transpiring.

As it turned out, there was a _motorcycle_ idling in the hallway, held by a very pissed-looking alpha. Aiden ground his teeth together as Ms. Blake yelled at him about suspension. I noticed how his eyes never once left Isaac, Scott, or Allison, who were all standing at the opposite side of the hallway, wearing identical smirks. Ethan skidded to a halt beside his brother, opening his mouth has though he was going to defend him, but then he seemed to think better of it. I gave Scott a universal 'what happened' look, but he merely grinned. And then it hit me-he and Isaac and Allison...they had planned the bike incident to get back at the twins for framing Isaac and getting him detention. The plan was ingenious in every way imaginable. I had flashed them a thumbs up, a grin somehow coming to my lips.

I couldn't fight the alphas directly, but my friends sure as hell could. When the issue had finally been settled, we were herded back into the classroom, our teacher once again demanding our full cooperation and attention. But my thoughts wondered back to Stiles, who was the only one I hadn't seen laughing in the hall. I was curious where he was, but I guess I would see him soon enough. In my next block, he sat directly in front of me. He wouldn't be hard to miss at all.

Of course, I was right about that. After spending all day virtually ignoring the Stilinski boy, having him sit inches away form me was unnerving. He kept a polite distance, not saying anything but a simple 'hello', which I easily returned. Honestly, his reluctance to speak alarmed me. But when I delved into his emotions, I could feel the uncertainty and worry eating at the corners of his mind. He felt as though our kiss had pushed us apart because he had moved in too far, too fast. Yet that wasn't the case at all. Being with Stiles-it felt like freedom. It felt like jumping head-first into a great abyss, and free-fall afterward. It felt like all the things in the world had righted themselves and simultaneously became a disarray once again. It felt like imperfect that was perfectly perfect, all the way up to his slightly-crooked smile.

I didn't know how to tell him that. How cheesy could I be, saying that, for once, everything just felt _right?_ No, those were words I couldn't bear to murmur. A couple of days had changed me into a completely different person, a better version of myself. I was determined not to lose her just yet. And telling Stiles how I felt about him, before I revealed everything else about myself...well, that could destroy just about everything, including the new-and improved me.

Before class ended, I gathered up my courage and tapped Stiles gently on the shoulder. He jumped in his seat, wheeling around to face me. He had his math problems wadded up in his hand, pencil lead smudged across the bridge of his nose. His caramel eyes gazed at me hopefully, and the sight sent a hollow feeling ringing through my gut. But I couldn't indulge in his yearning to form a conversastion. "Can you call me tonight?" I asked him, my face a placid mask. "We need to talk."

Those dreaded words caused worry to flash over every feature of his face. "But I don't have-" he began to protest.

In response, I grabbed his hand, reveling in the warmth of it for a millisecond, and then scribbled my new cell phone number onto Stiles' outstretched palm. The black ink looked out of place against his pale complextion, almost like a scar. He stared down at the number fearfully, as though I had just wrote an omen of death on his hand.

"There," I replied, voice hoarse. "Now you do." Those were the only words that were exchanged between us for the rest of the class period.

Stiles did not try to give me a ride home. Or, more accurately, I ducked out of the school and began to jog to my apartment before the Stilinski boy could even slam his locker shut. When I reached my apartment, I flopped down on the couch, letting a whooshing breath flee my lungs. It seemed like I hadn't been here for an eternity, even though I had only been gone since the day before yesterday. I had decided, rather stupidly, that I would come back here and pack up the remainder of my belongings alone. I wanted to have solitude and peace before I had to break the news to Stiles, and that was exactly what I had told Derek, holding my phone between my ear and shoulder. My older brother had finally resigned, telling me that he would keep an eye on my home, which sounded suspiciously like he would be stalking me from a distance. Sighing, I had hung up the phone.

Now I was busy casting a calming circle, scattering herbs around the perimeter and trying to find my 'center', as Ophelia had called it. Breathing in the incense deeply, I tried to clear my mind of all stress and negativity. Soon my breaths became deeper, more sound. The smell of jasmine and vanilla filled my nostrils, and I sat perfectly still in the middle of the circle until the sun sank over the horizon. I had never been a huge fan of meditation-Ophelia had claimed that I had no patience when it came to sitting still, which was true-but I figured that taking every form of help I could get seemed like a pretty smart idea.

So when, at 9:32 at night, Stiles called me, I took a cleansing breath and asked: "Can you meet me at the lacrosse field? I...changed my mind. I need to tell you in person."

"The lacrosse field?" Stiles questioned, voice staticky over the phone. "Right now? Tonight?"

"Yes, Stiles."

"Sera, is it really that important? I'm sorry, but my dad's not home yet, and if he comes back and i'm not here...well, there will be some serious explaining to do, let me say."

My resolve wavered for half a second. Then I steeled myself and replied: "Yes, it's very important. I wouldn't ask you to come if it wasn't."

Stiles paused, and for a moment, I just listened to his slightly uneven breathing. Finally, he let out a long breath of air and quietly mumbled: "Fine. If my dad comes home, though... Ah, I'll see you there, okay?"

"See you there." My voice was so quiet that I was afraid he didn't hear it.

The line went dead, and I held my shiny new phone in my hands for another good five minutes, afraid of everything that was to come next.

The only difference? I was finally facing my fears.

I grabbed a normal pair of tennis shoes and thrust them onto my feet, doing up the laces with slow precision. Then I pulled on my faded gray jacket, the one that was inconspicous and dull. I didn't even bother checking myself in the mirror, or even pause to get smething to eat. My stomach was growling, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn't be able to keep much down at the moment; I was beyond nervous. After slipping out my front door and briefly recalling finding Heather's body by the steps, I fled down the stairs at almost top speed. Tonight was especially cool-it had been getting cooler each day, and it was only the beginning of September. This winter would be frigid, by the looks of things. I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked, the chill of the night getting to me.

It didn't take me long to get to the high school. The building rose up out of the darkness like a huge beast, dark and foreboding in the scarce light. Streetlights flickered over head, casting a faint glow, but I could see well enough to manuever around anything in my path. In the distance, I could spot the lacrosse field, completely empty, the sign above the fence advertising: Home of the Beacon Hills Cyclones. I gulped in a breath when I came to the locked gate. Stiles wasn't here yet-I hadn't seen or heard the Jeep-but I knew he was on his way. Gazing up at the metal barrier, I braced myself. I placed my hands in feet in a few rungs, climbing with an agility I had forgotten that I possessed. When I reached the top, I swung my legs over and carefully began my descent. I could have probably jumped and landed with no injury, but the habit of doing human things constantly had caught up to me.

I walked down the center of the lacrosse field, staring at each goal post and the bleachers on either side. I knew I was trespassing, and if I got caught, I would be taken down to the police station for questioning. The funny thing: I was meeting the sheriff's son here, on forbidden grounds.

After a few seconds of wandering, I heard the gentle puttering of an engine in the distance, drawing closer. Then the sound cut off, leaving the night silent once again. It was eerily silent, as it had been lately-the rustling of animals and chirping of crickets seemed to be almost nonexistent. I kept by back turned to the fence, even when I heard the clanging of metal and labored breathing, even when a pair of feet once again returned to the ground. Stiles was a few feet away from me, anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

I honestly didn't know if I could turn around and face him.

"Seraphina? What's...going on? Is something wrong?" Those words made me squeeze my eyes shut. When I didn't answer, Stiles let out a shaky sigh. "You said you wanted to talk. I-I need to know what you wanted to say."

"I'm not who you think I am," I whispered, my arms wrapped around my torso tightly.

His confusion was thick, clogging my throat. "What do you mean? Is this about the kiss, Sera? Because I'm sorry if I went too fast, but I thought that-"

"It's not about the kiss, Stiles," I told him, shaking my head. I was having a hard time keeping my heartbeat steady. I finally turned to face him. "'This is about me."

He was standing there in front of me, looking just as he did the day we first met. He wasn't wearing the same clothes, but even in the the red plaid button-down and Converse he wore now, he was still inexplicably Stiles. I could see him shiver slightly as the wind picked up, and his caramel eyes worked to decipher my expression. Dark hair mussed on the side, he looked like he had rolled out of bed just for this encounter. A pang shot through my chest at the sight of him. He had never deserved any of this. Of all people, this boy deserved a lot more than what I could offer.

"I haven't been telling you the truth, Stiles. I've...I just didn't want it to-to be like this, y'know? I wanted to pretend and be normal and just be with you."

"Seraphina, you're not making any sense," Stiles said, taking a cautious step forward. "Listen, I know that you felt sick today, so maybe I should take you home so you can lie down."

"I thought I could just forget the past," I continued, voice shaking. "But I can't. I can't. Some things aren't meant to be forgotten. I know that now."

Stiles took another step forward, and then another. He looked as though he was approaching a rabid animal.

"D-don't," I warned him, voice trembling almost as much as I was. "Don't come any closer."

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks.

"My name is not Seraphina Sinclair," I told the Stilinski boy, my eyes boring into his. His brow furrowed.

"What-"

"I've been lying to you because I thought I could keep you safe. But I can't. I'm not strong enough." My chest heaved. "I know about everything that's happening. I know about Deucalion and Deaton and werewolves and Hunters and all of it. I know because I'm apart of all of it-I always have been. I tried so hard to run from who I am, to be normal like you. But I'm not like you, Stiles. And I-could only pretend to be human for so long."

Stiles was staring at me in disbelief, his mouth working to form words. Yet there was no sound. I saw the way his eyes flashed distrustfully, and I watched as he leaned away from me. There was so much suspcion in his expression, it nearly killed me. "How do you know about werewolves? Is this some kind of joke because-because it's really not funny, Seraphina."

"This isn't a joke." I swallowed. "God, if only it was that easy." Tears sprang to my eyes, burning as I fought them back. "You don't understand," I whispered. "And that's okay. I'll just...have to show you."

Stiles said something as I dropped my head, staring at the ground. I felt my fingernails sharpen, and my teeth lengthened to long canines. Fur sprouted across the edges of my face, and I felt my facial structure shift forward, making me look more animalistic, almost like I had a snout. The tears ran freely down my cheeks as I looked up at Stiles, my eyes a vivid gold.

"No," he said, stumbling backward. His eyes were round, so round, and his lips trembled as he shook his head back and forth, over and over again. "No, no." The words were almost like a plea. "You're...you're a werewolf." Stiles blinked rapidly, as if he was trying to erase the image from his mind. "H-how are you a werewolf? Did the..alphas turn you? What-Did_ Derek_ turn you?" There was an urgency in his voice, anger boiling just beneath the surface.

I shook my head slowly, sobs wracking my body. "N-no. I was-born like this. I came back to Beacon hills a year ago," I hiccuped. "I had escaped from the fire, but I had to come back. I..I was the only one who made it out. They pulled Peter out, but I...I survived, and I ran. I came back b-because of my brother. He was all alone, and I couldn't leave him alone. I wanted to live...a normal life and watch him from the sidelines. But then-then I met you, and everything...fell apart. Scott and everyone else, they know. They have known." I shifted back to my human form, still shaking unsteadily. "I just couldn't bear to t-tell you. I didn't want to hurt you, Stiles."

"Say it."

"What?" I questioned, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Tell me who you are. Say it, or I won't believe you." Stiles' voice was full of desperation and anger, as was his face.

I nearly choked. "My name is Seraphina Hale. I'm Derek Hale's younger sister, Stiles."

Stiles closed his normally-warm honey-brown eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his hands into fists. "All this time, you were playing me," he ground out.

"No! I wasn't-" I tried to step forward, but the Stilinski boy merely took another step back. His disappointment and anger, overwhelming anger, almost brought me to my knees.

"I don't want to hear excuses!" Stiles shouted, stunning me into silence. I had never heard Stiles raise his voice before, but it proved to be terrifying. "I don't want to hear anymore lies. You can try to defend yourself all you want, Seraphina, but how can I trust anything you say?" Stiles rubbed his forehead, breathing unevenly. "I-I thought...God, I thought that if there could be just one normal thing in my life, it would be you. You were what..anchored me. I can never get away from werewolves, or the supernatural, or any of the other shit running rampant in Beacon Hills!" Stiles began to pace, breathing growing more ragged with ever step. "Everything just falls away, piece by piece. It's all based on lies and pain...God, I'm so tired of it. I'm tired of being treated like I'm not strong enough to handle the truth."

Stiles whirled around, coming face to face with me. "You told all of them. You told everyone before you told me. Do you know how _worthless_ that makes me feel?" I opened my mouth, but Stiles didn't let me utter a word. "You don't know. But it doesn't matter, Seraphina, because I'm done being the boy who people use, the damn sidekick. I'm done swallowing down lies. Yours, especially." Stiles' glare was enough to shatter me. It felt like I had a dagger lodged between my ribs. I had never seen him look like that before. "I don't care who you are. I don't care what you are, or what you've done. I'm done caring about people who only care about themselves." Stiles shook his head, fury and pain and fear and betrayal all crammed into his eyes, and each emotion clawed at my chest, destroying me a little more. How could I have done this to him? How could I have been so selfish?

Stiles turned his back to me, dark head tilted to the dark sky. "Good-bye, Seraphina."

There was an alarming kind of finality in Stiles' words, and I wanted to run and grab his arm, hold onto him before he disappeared. But then Stiles jolted forward, storming over to the fence before I could breathe a word more. I couldn't take the words back; I couldn't make him forget. I wanted this whole entire night to to rewind itself.

Unfortunately, going back in time wasn't one of my damn 'talents'.

"Stiles!" I yelled. But he didn't turn around or even acknowledge me. He scaled the fence without much of a struggle, dropping to the ground from a fairly safe distance. I watched, frozen, as his form faded into the night, leaving me with nothing but the shadows and my own thoughts.

My legs finally gave out. I sank to the ground in a heap, my arms going to wrap around my legs. I sat, huddled into a little ball, feeling the damp earth beneath me, and stared down at my hands, which were once again smooth and soft, betraying no sign of the monster that hid within. I sobbed unabashedly now, letting the cries echo into the night, horrible wails that resembled those of a dying animal. I couldn't stop myself; rivulets of tears spilled down my cheeks, and I squeezed my eyes shut to try to slow them.

It was no use.

I knew what had happened was all my fault. I accepted that. What I couldn't accept was the fact that I had hurt Stiles deeply. His trust in me had been shattered into an oblivion, and I had also made him suspicious of his friends, who had kept my secret for my own sake. Every lie had finally crumbled to dust, and I was left bare and exposed for what I truly was. The truth, I knew, was a hard thing to come to terms with.

Because there are different kinds of truths. There are the truths that reveal lies, the truths that spare thoughts and feelings, the truths that aren't necessarily whole. And then there are the truths that break you, piece by piece, chipping away what little bit of stability and confidence you possess. Those are the truths that leave you inexplicbly bare. Alone. Shattered. Because those truths-they cost you precious you may never be able to get back, no matter how hard you try.

The truth is always better than a lie.

The only problem is...they never specified who it was better for.

I'm not sure how long I stayed there, crying miserably on the lacrosse field, but I know that the sky finally became completely black, with no stars visable, and the temperature dipped to even colder levels.

After a while, someone found me sitting there, and they picked me up in their warm arms with little difficulty. They smelled strangely familiar-like cedar wood and musk-and I buried my face into their shoulder with an exhausted sigh, on the brink of unconciousness. At one point, we passed under a street light, and I saw the gruff, semi-unshaven face of my savior: Derek. He held onto me tightly, even as my sight drifted in and out, and for a while, his face took on a less guarded expression. There was worry there, and maybe even..sympathy? I thought perhaps I was just hallucinating. Derek set me down gently in the car, driving back to his apartment full-speed. The lights from outside my window glowed brightly, shimmering in an infinity of different colors. I shuddered yet again, my body trying to fight off the cold that was attempting to seep into my skin. "Derek..." I murmured, fuzziness enveloping me.

"I'm here." I thought I heard him say. "I'm right here, Sera. I promise."

When I came to again, I was being gently placed on the sofa in Derek's loft, a warm quilt being tucked under my shoulders and feet. I sighed, my breath rattling through my chest emptily, before I looked up at my brother. He didn't see that I was awake, or at least semi-concious. He was muttering something to Isaac, who stood a few feet away from where I lay, dressed in a ragged T-shirt and sweatpants. The Lahey boy nodded when Derek said something about 'look after her', but I was too tired to care.

A few seconds, or maybe minutes-I wasn't sure-later, Isaac squatted down in front of me, his blue eyes worried. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but my mouth wouldn't open. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked in a hushed voice. His hands were curled at his sides. For some reason, he was worried about me. I found that really sweet. It was a shame that I couldn't talk to tell him so. I simply shook my head at his question.

"Do you need anything?" he asked insistently.

Did I need anything? Oh, of course I did. Of course.

I cleared my throat, mouth like sand paper, and stated: "Just stay close."

Understanding flashed in Isaac's eyes. He gazed over at what I assumed was my brother's bed, then gave a curt nod. Isaac went up the stairs and grabbed all the spare blankets and pillows, arranging them on the floor beside me. And then he lay down, tapping the back of my hand with his own to let me know that he was there. That he was close, and wasn't leaving.

I fell asleep listening to my brother and Isaac's breathing, a perfect harmony in a world so full of discord.

**OH MY GOOODDNEESS. That took forever, and I want to apologize. Whew. It's been too long, everyone! First off, I would like to throw a disclaimer out there and say that I do not, and will not ever, own Teen Wolf. That is a sad thought to think.**

**And then-THANKYOUTHANKYOOUTHANKYOU! Thank you to all the lovely, considerate people who have favorited, subscribed, followed, or reviewed. YoU are all friggin' amazing, guys. I wouldn't have such a terrific time writing if it weren't for you!**

**But there are two people who I want to thank personally. Ms. McGonagiggles, who gave me a suggestion to include Bradley Caleb Kane's angsty masterpiece 'Once' in my writing. It fit so well with this chapter especially, and I wanted to thank her for being so lovely and supportive. :) Also, a special thanks goes out to Kathryne Buzolic, or Kat, because she and I have had many laughs recently, and she is just about as sweet and funny as they come. Thank you for your constant support and the numerous conversations we had about the enigmatic Greenberg. :D And by the way, Kat is currently working on a hella awesome Teen Wolf fanfic called Breaking the Barriers. You all should check it out. I mean, if you like a good Stiles/OC story, why wouldn't you?**

**And lastly, BrittWitt16 just finished her story The Wild Side, which has become my favorite Teen Wolf fanfic of all time. If you haven't read that, I highly recommend it. That's a story that will stick with me for a while now. **

**Again, thank you, all of you. Keep being wonderful, lovelies. :)**


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Best Intentions**

_Can't help myself but count the flaws_

_Claw my way out through the walls_

_One temporary eascape_

_Feel it start to permeate._

_-Young Blood, by Birdy_

I didn't awaken to the sound of birds chirping, or a gentle nudge of the shoulder. No, that would have been far too ordinary.

I woke up to the smell of something burning.

Being a survivor of a terrible fire, my nose was especially sensitive to such a smell, as was my mind. The awful stench pervaded my nostrils, sending my senses into hyperdrive. I was on my feet before I was fully awake, my eyes flying open on their own accord. The quilt that had been tucked under me was now tangled around my feet. My eyes roved over my surroundings bearily, trying to decipher where I was.

Then it came back to me almost as vividly as though I were living it again-my confession to Stiles, Derek rescuing me, Isaac's kindness. I was standing in Derek's loft, and I had slept on the sofa. It smelled strongly of Isaac, like cheap shampoo and spearmint, and I silently cursed myself for sleeping on the Lahey boy's 'bed'. I had been severely distraught last night, so Isaac hadn't even complained when Derek had rested me on the couch. He'd just grabbed some blankets and laid down beside me, close enough that I could hear him breathe.

I was really starting to like that kid.

It took my foggy mind a minute to process that Isaac was no longer on the floor, and Derek was no longer in his bed. And the smell of burning only seemed to be getting worse. I walked around the edge of the couch, sniffing as I followed my nose. Sure enough, when I rounded the corner by Derek's bed, I found the source. There was a tiny kitchenette wedged just out of sight, with a refrigerator, sink, and...a smoking stove.

I coughed as smoke wafted through the air, waving my hand in front of my face to clear my vision. The smoke and the heat of the room made my throat close up; I felt like I was smothering, nealy suffocating. "Seraphina?" Isaac appeared in front of me, eyebrows furrowing as my chest heaved. It felt like I was about to have a full blown panic attack right there, in the middle of the kitchen. Isaac must have sensed my distress, because he took me by the arm and guided me over to the huge bay window, opening the panel with a swift jerk. I gasped in breath after breath of clean air, savoring the untainted oxygen.

My dark hair swirled in a sudden cool gust of wind, and I yanked myself away from the window and turned on heel to face Isaac. He had been rapidly apologizing for the last few minutes, trying to assure me that everything was alright, that he just wasn't the best cook. I nodded at him, my head bobbing up and down mechanically. I wasn't really hearing much of what he was saying, other than he was sorry, which was good enough for me. Isaac's blue eyes were still as worried as they had been last night. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me-blood shot eyes? Messy, tangled curls? A face that was still tear-streaked? It was hard to tell. Or maybe he just saw an emotionally-drained girl with a face devoid of all expression.

Isaac rubbed the side of his face nervously. Even though he towered over me, the beta seemed somewhat intimidated by my presence. I looked him up and down, from the dark jeans and striped T-shirt up to the defined cheekbones and dirty blond curls. There was a spatula in his hand, and he held it with little conviction, as though he had never handled such a device in his life. Shaking my head, I ventured back into the tiny kitchen, steeling myself against the rancid smell. Isaac followed closely behind me, still mumbling apologies, but I had already forgiven him. My feet shuffled over the dirty wooden floor to the stove, which was turned on high. I yanked the smoldering pan off the red-hot burner and turned the temperature down, almost rolling my eyes at the typical guy kind of mistake Isaac had made.

I braced myself against the counter before I looked over my shoulder at Isaac, who was peering at the blackened mess in the pan with a disappointed look on his face. "You don't cook often, huh?" I asked, my voice gravelly from all the crying I had done last night.

Isaac gave a sheepish shake of his head.

I adjusted my rumpled shirt and inspected the indistinguishable lump in the pan. "What...is that supposed to be?"

Isaac cocked his head to the side. "It's a pancake. It got a little-crispy, I guess, but it should be fine. Why, do you want one?"

Maybe it was the way he said it, so earnestly, or the innocent tilt of his head that did me in. I'm not sure. But before I knew what was happening, I fell over the counter and gave a hysteric laugh. The pain in my chest receeded a bit, fading to a dull ache, and I ran my shaking hands through my hair before my pitiful laughter ceased. "Oh, no thanks," I finally manged to choke. "Nah, I like my food a little less...scorched, actually."

The beta boy blew out an exasperated sigh, but I could see a tiny smile forming at the corner of his lips. He pitied me too much to be offended by my words, it seemed. Isaac dumped the deformed pancake into the trash immediately. "I can't say that I blame you, honestly." Isaac stared down at his bare feet. "I was just tired of eating cereal everyday, y'know? Thought I'd try something different." He kicked the ground a bit when he said, "And I figured you would want something good for breakfast."

I eyed the Lahey boy curiously, watching as his face flushed. "Because you lived alone before," he quickly clarified. "And after last night-" His mouth snapped shut when he realized his mistake.

But I wasn't going to chastise him for bringing up my fight with Stiles. "That's sweet," I intoned, taking Isaac completely off guard. He looked from beneath his lashes, mouth slightly open. I opened the chipping white cabinets and grabbed some crappy off-brand marshmellow cereal, rummaging around for a bowl in spoon in the next cabinet. "But next time you want to comfort a girl, avoid the unintentional poisoning, okay?" I grinned at Isaac over my shoulder, trying my best to make it genuine. God, it really hurt to smile.

"Sure thing," he muttered, fixing himself a bowl of cereal as well. I could tell my teasing had eased the awkwardness of my praise, but Isaac was still slightly embarrassed. I hoisted myself up onto the counter, popping my spoon into my mouth as I found comfortable position to sit in. Isaac watched me with a questioning look on his face, but I simply ignored it and went back to eating my somewhat-disgusting cereal. We both chewed for a while, the silent void only filled by our steady crunching. "Where's Derek?" I questioned as I swallowed my last mouthful.

Isaac, who had been leaning against the counter, placed his bowl in the sink and gazed over at me. "In the shower, I think," he replied, jerking a finger up to the ceiling. Now that he had pointed it out, I heard running water above. I nodded, sliding off the counter with ease. My spoon and bowl clattered into the sink a second later, and I wiped my hands on the back of my dirt-streaked jeans absentmindedly.

It was only then did I really stare out the window into the dazzling morning sunlight... "Shit!" I exclaimed, hands going up to clutch my head. I raced over to the window, gazing outside. The sun was already high in the sky.

"What is it?" Isaac asked nervously. "What's wrong?"

"We're supposed to be at school!" My voice was frantic. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"Because I asked him not to," said a voice from a few feet away. Whirling around, I frowned at my brother. He was dressed in a fitted pair of jeans, water dripping from his hair down his muscled torso. He scrubbed a towel over his head, his piercing eyes never once leaving mine.

I huffed out a surprised breath. "Um, thanks, I guess, but I really need to be at school. I can't afford to miss any classes, especially since they found Kyle's body yesterday. People are going to start getting suspicious once they realize that both Heather's and Kyle's deaths are linked to me." My voice trembled a bit at the word 'deaths'.

There was a stern expression on Derek's unshaven face, but something uncharacteristically soft lingered in his eyes as he murmured: "You needed to rest. It won't kill you to miss the first half of the day; I'll make sure you're there before lunch, if that's what you really want."

"Yeah," I agreed half-heartedly. "That sounds great." I skirted around my brother, heading up the winding staircase so I could get a shower.

"Sera," Derek called.

I looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. He dropped the towel into his arms, face only going more serious. "Hm?"

"You don't have to go if you're not ready." The gentleness in Derek's voice disarmed me. I had almost thought his rescue last night was a dream, but now here he was, proving otherwise. "I don't think it's a smart idea to have the two of you around each other after what-"

"Derek." My voice was sharp. My brother looked up at me, and I saw Isaac creep around the corner, watching what was transpiring between the Hale siblings. "I appreciate you letting me stay here, really. I appreciate that you're trying to look out for me. But I can't hide away in the loft; it won't solve anything. There are some things that I'm-just going to have to face." The metal stairs creaked beneath my feet, and I watched Derek struggle to find the right words.

"I know," he finally sighed, seeming disgruntled.

I shook my head and smiled slightly, bounding up the rest of the steps.

After grabbing a pair of capris and a baggy gray hoodie that read _Beacon Hills Cyclones, _I gathered my toilettries for the bathroom. I was passing the the staircase when Derek and Isaac's voices drifted up the staircase. Curious, I paused and listened to what they were saying. "Sera's pretty hardcore," Isaac observed. I smirked as his voice wavered. "Uh, yeah. So I was wondering if maybe she..." I strained to hear the rest of his sentence, but it was clear he had abruptly cut himself off. "Or I'll ask later." I could practically feel the tension from where I stood. It took everything in me to stifle a weary giggle as I pictured the death glare Derek was probably shooting the Lahey boy. "Or never," he squeaked. "Never is fine, too."

I rolled my eyes and headed for the shower, ready to have all my worries pounded away by rushing water.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XX

Derek was probably the most practical driver in Beacon Hills. He insisted on going five mph slower than the signs said, and I had problems not being a backseat driver on the way to school. Isaac was gazing out the window the whole time, avoiding eye contact with my brother. After his awkward, one-sided conversation with Derek this morning, he didn't seem like he was going to risk his neck with any more comments.

I held my bag tightly on my lap, gazing out the windows with little expression on my face. My reflection stared back at me as rain began to pelt the Mom Mobile. I looked haggard: my eyes were still bloodshot and bags hung under my eyes, though I had desperately tried to conceal them with makeup this morning. My mouth was twisted into a grimace. I turned away, my eyes instead going down to look at my hands folded on my lap.

I didn't know how I was going to face Stiles. I didn't know how I would find the strength to set a foot in Beacon Hills High School.

The rain pounded the windshield, drawing me out of my thoughts. I swallowed back the heaviness in my throat and squirmed in my seat. The interior of the SUV still had that new-car smell, and it burned my nose a bit as I inhaled deeply. Isaac was tracing swirls onto the fogged-up passenger window, unaware of the near-anxiety attack I was having. But Derek seemed to know exactly what was happening; he kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, like he was expecting me to give up hope and fling myself out of the car.

I folded my arms tightly across my sweatshirt and let out a shaky sigh, eyes now trailing down to my feet.

It was the longest car ride of my life.

Derek finally came to a smooth halt in front of the school, drumming his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. I listened as the windshield wipers squeaked with every swipe. "Do you have an umbrella?" Isaac asked me hopefully, twisting around in his seat to get a better look at me. I shook my head no, and he turned back around, obviously a bit disappointed. "Hood it is," he finally sighed, pulling the hood of his jacket over his curls. I mimicked him easily, tucking my hair into my sweatshirt. "Count of three?" Isaac questioned, hand going to grasp his door handle. I gave a sharp bob of my head, my hand going to the handle of my own door.

"Thanks for the ride!" Isaac called after counting, throwing his door open without a second of hesitation. I followed quickly after him, muttering a quiet 'thank you' to my older brother as I slipped out of the Mom Mobile. I knew he heard me, and I was glad that he did. After all that Derek had done for me in the past day, I owed him much more than a thank you, anyways.

Isaac and I slammed our doors shut, darting for the steps of the school with reckless abandon. Isaac's tall form ran ahead of me, yanking open the double doors of the school in an effort to not completely get drenched. When we emerged in the foyer of the school, we were dripping wet, shoes squeaking loudly against the floors. Isaac pulled off his hood and shook himself a bit, reminding me of a wet dog. I also removed my hood, but the coldness of the water seemed to have absorbed into my body. Or maybe it was just the chill of fear.

Isaac turned to me breathlessly, blue eyes on mine. "I'm going to go talk to Boyd," he informed me, shuffling his feet. "Do you...need me to stay close?"

That was exactly what I had asked of him last night, and he had been by my side ever since. I swallowed with difficulty. Isaac really didn't know how much his thoughfulness meant to me right now. Without another word, I grabbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt and pulled myself to him, arms going to wrap around his back. Isaac stood there for a second, shocked, and then his arms finally went up to wrap around me as well. "No," I choked. "No, you go find Boyd. Thank you, though." My head rested against his shoulder for a second. "Thank you."

I released him after a moment, and Isaac blinked and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're welcome. Um...so I'll see you around, then?"

"Sure thing, Lahey. See you around."

Isaac gave me a that unsure smile of his, like he wasn't used to having something that resembled a happy expression stretched across his face. In reality, I knew that he wasn't. He had been through too much, seen so much evil. I knew what his father had done to him, and it made incredibly sad to know that a boy with such good intentions was hurt so badly. Isaac turned and loped down the hallway, fading out of sight after a few seconds.

Sighing, I manuevered my way through the throngs of people surrounding the lockers, trying to block out all of the incessant chatter. My heart drummed painfully against my ribs, as though it was trying to break through and escape. Wouldn't that be so much easier than staying where it was and getting broken all over again? My bag was heavy on my back, and I looked around the hallway nervously, afraid that I would see a familiar gangly form.

All of a sudden, a hand was grasping my elbow. I whirled around, adrenaline pumping through my veins instantly. My eyes gazed at my captor, and my shoulders slumped in relief. "Scott," I breathed. "You scared me to death." Scott dropped his hand from my arm and shook his head. His dark hair was dripping, and his brown eyes were shadowed. "Scott?"

"You told him everything."

My eyebrows furrowed. "I had to. You asked me to."

Scott nodded. "I know. He's just-he's so angry, Seraphina. I haven't seen him like this before." My nails dug into my my palms. Scott pursed his lips, tugging on his black jacket with a forlorn expression on his face. "He called me last night...after. He was livid with me, too-demanding answers and the rest of the story. I told him the rest, Sera. I told him that Deucalion is after you; I told him the story of the scepter, and why Deucalion killed Heather."

I flinched. "I was going to tell him the rest. But he-but..." I gulped. "He left me standing there, in the middle of the lacrosse field. He didn't want to hear anymore."

"I know." Scott shook his head. "He's pissed off and hurt. Stiles thinks that you betrayed him."

"I did." I stared down at my Chucks. "I betrayed his trust, and that's really the same thing."

Scott grimaced. "It's going to be a while before he cools down. He doesn't even want to talk to me right now. But I think...he'll come around, Sera. Stiles will realize that you were trying to protect him, and he'll come around. He has to."

I looked off to the side, my eyes shining with unshed tears. "He doesn't have to do anything, Scott. Because I was wrong-Stiles didn't need me to protect him. I can't even protect myself, let alone anyone else." Biting my lip, I ran my hand through my long hair. "He just wanted something normal, and I ruined it for him."

Scott adjusted his backpack, shaking his head. "Sometimes it seems like everything is just going to fall apart. And I feel like the alpha pack is only apart of it, y'know? Like there's something we're missing. With Deucalion wanting you to join his pack...and what he said to me...I just don't know what."

My head jerked up, and I stared at Scott. "What did you say?"

Scott's face held confusion, and then switched to a neutral expression. "Deucalion found me last night, before Stiles called me. I was at Allison's apartment, actually, telling her to watch out for the alphas, and then when I got into the elevator-he was there."

I straightened my spine. "What did he say to you?" I asked sharply.

Scott let out a deep breath. "He told me that he wants me to rise to my full potential. He-he wants me to be apart of his pack, too."

"No," I whispered, taking a step forward. "Why would he-why would he try to get you to turn against us, Scott? To strengthen his pack?"

"He thinks that if I join him...he thinks that it will-persuade you to be apart of the pack." Scott's eyes were masking a fear that he didn't want me to see. "Deucalion knows every way to get to us, Sera, every way to hurt us the most. He wants you to cave, and so he wants to try to make me weak first." Scott's normally tan skin was sickly pale. His eyes locked on me, resting solidly on my face. "I'm not going to give in to him, and neither are you. We're going to find some way to take them down, I promise. And then no one will have to be afraid anymore."

I turned away, covering my face with both hands. I wanted to scream. Deucalion was trying to get me to break, and he nearly had me at the end of my rope now. He was going after everyone, and he wouldn't stop until he had me in his pack. It was time for action.

"Have you told Derek yet?" I asked finally, dropping my hands to my sides. Scott and I were leaning against the lockers now, as if the weight of the news was to heavy for us to hold. Scott tapped his fingers on the metal behind him, looking up at the ceiling.

"I'm going to wait to tell him," he murmured. My eyes traced the path of other students as they weaved their way through the overflowing hallway, but flicked up Scott as those words came out of his mouth. "You know how Derek is," Scott continued. "He's going to see this as practically an act of war. Deucalion has already made you endure enough, and with his threat of using me to bait you into joining the alphas-Derek won't tolerate it. He'll want to fight back."

"So you're going to keep it a secret?" I clarified, my chest tightening.

"For now. I'm going to talk to Deucalion myself."

"Scott-" I protested.

"Not completely alone," he amended after a moment. "Isaac will probably come with me. We just can't afford to let Derek start something that we can't possibly win."

I sighed deeply. "I know. I know that better than anyone." Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a dark shape. Turning my head, the person came into perfect view: it was Boyd, leaning up against the wall a few feet away. He was glaring in my direction, not even trying to mask his distaste. I opened my mouth, about to call out to him and see if Isaac had found him, but then he was moving, blending seamlessly into the crowd as the warning bell rang.

Scott didn't seem to have seen the encounter, so I shook my head and said nothing. It was better not to question Boyd. Who knew what kind of insults he would come up with? I hoisted my messenger bag higher onto my shoulder, following Scott as he trailed down the hallway. There were much more important things to worry about than Boyd's attitude problem.

First block was a nightmare, like I figured it would be. I had endured boring note-taking and the awkward, painful tension that Stiles was emanating for forty-five minutes, until the point where I was almost sure that I was going to have a mental breakdown right there in Chemistry II. I had tried so hard to stay focused and on task, but my eyes kept roaming back over to where Stiles sat, his back hunched as he leaned over his work. He was dressed in a plaid-button down shirt, a white T-shirt layered underneath. Paired with jeans and tennis shoes, Stiles looked completely like...Stiles. But I could feel his hurt and anger, and it pummeled me like a tsunami coming in off the coast.

He didn't look at me all class, not once.

I had never been more relieved to hear a bell ring in all my life. After slowly collecting my belongings, I made my way to AP English without a word. Allison was already in her seat, her Bedford Reader opened, a pencil between her lips as she flipped through the pages. When her brown eyes finally rose to meet me, they were full of pity. It was the same look that everyone seemed to be giving me nowadays, and the knowledge of that seemed to burn a hole in my chest. I took my seat, listening as Ms. Anders gave us the page number of the the passage we needed to annotate. The words were almost nothing but a blur to me though, and without realizing it, I spent nearly half of the class period reading one paragraph. Allison tapped me on the shoulder after a while, a tentative move that made me look up. "I'm really sorry, Seraphina." She looked down at her floral-printed cardigan. "Scott told me earlier what happened with Stiles."

I found it easier to look at Allison after she said that. It meant I wouldn't have to try to explain the awful night in detail, and also, I wouldn't have Allison giving me the wary look she so often wore in my presence. I gave her a tiny smile, but I knew it was unconvincing at best. Had I made it so completely obvious that I liked Stiles? Scott had found out by the way the Stilinski boy and I interacted, but it seemed like everyone knew.

Maybe it was because I hadn't gotten close to another boy in a long time, and Stiles was so easy to talk to. Or maybe it was the simple fact that while I could decipher everyone else's emotions, I had no idea how to mask my own. Irony at its best, I supposed.

By now, my answer to Allison was a little bit delayed, but I gave it anyways. "It's fine, really. I knew I would have to tell him sooner or later. And I guess later wasn't the best option after all." My voice was hoarse.

Allison winced. "When I found out Scott was a werewolf, that he had been lying to me... I was furious. And hurt." She wrapped a strand of her brown hair arounnd her index finger. "But no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I still cared about him. Deep down, I knew he had only been doing what he thought was right." Allison's whisper carried only to me; Ms. Anders was now giving instructions for our homework assignment. "I think Stiles will come around, Seraphina. It may be a while; I'm not going to lie. But he will come around." Allison's dark brown, almost black eyes gazed at me with a reassurance that I hadn't been expecting.

"I hope so," I told her as the bell trilled loudly, signaling lunch. "I really hope so."

We grabbed our belonging and headed for the door, but Ms. Anders stopped us with a simple call of: "Girls?"

My stomach sank. As if I already didn't have enough to deal with...now I was going to get lectured. "I couldn't help but notice that the two of you were talking all throughout the second half of class." Ms. Anders sat down at her desk, pushing her blonde curls away from the nape of her neck. Her maroon shirt set off her lipstick nicely, but it probably would have looked better if she was smiling. "Now, I know the two of you are wonderful students, so I really have nothing to worry about. But I also know that if you're having problems, you can always speak to Ms. Morrell. She's very easy to talk to, Seraphina."

I felt my face burn. I knew that Ms. Anders was just trying to be helpful, but her suggestion to see the school counseler seemed to be about something else. All of my teachers were informed of my 'condition' on the first day of school. Everyone still thought that I had amnesia, or, as my psychiatrist had put it: 'memory repression issues'. There was nothing wrong with my brain, they had concluded. No damage done to erase my memories. My former psychiatrist had told me my problem was solely a mental one, and that, with his help, I could somehow get my memories back.

Of course, I had never lost my memories to begin with. That had been my cover story after escaping the fire, and even though it had meant attending therapy sessions for months on end, I was simply satisfied that my lies hadn't fell through.

Except for now, Ms. Anders was suggesting that I talk to Ms. Morrell about my problems. If I denied, I was sure that she would have someone call my social worker to drag me back into sessions with a psychiatrist. And even though I had been emancipated, the social worker could still do so. If they saw me unfit to live alone, they would send me out of Beacon Hills. And with everything happening now, I couldn't just leave. It wouldn't end well at all.

So I placed a smile on my face and said sweetly: "Of course, Ms. Anders. I'll make an appoinment with her tomorrow."

The woman nodded, shuffling a few papers on her desk. "Good, good. Go ahead to lunch, girls. Have a nice day."

We told her goodbye pleasantly and walked out of the room. As soon as we were out of hearing distance, I started muttering profanities.

"What was that about?" Allison asked curiously.

"That," I replied, "was my cover story blowing up in my face." I quickly explained my amnesia cover to Allison, only scraping the surface of what I went through before the Sinclairs adopted me. She listened intently, making the appropriate faces and sympathetic noises as I relived the past. As we were heading to our lockers, it hit me that Allison hadn't stopped me once, not even to add anything in. I was expecting her to go off in search of Lydia, but even when she had shoved all of her books into her locker, she returned to my side. We walked to lunch together, a former Hunter and a beta werewolf, talking quietly under out breath about the boys that we wouldn't be sitting with.

Scott and Stiles were seated at their usual table, poking and prodding the lunch to make sure nothing leaped from their trays. Stiles seemed to be completely focused, however, on stabbing his meatloaf with a little more gusto than necessary. He kept shooting Scott annoyed looks, not saying much of anything. Isaac was seated across from the two of them, and he turned around, head cocking to the side as Allison and I squeezed our way through the cafeteria. His eyes met mine, and he gave both Allison and I a nod of his head. Scott must have realized what was going on, but he didn't look up at all, concentrating on his food. Boyd was no where to be seen. And Stiles was the only one who didn't seem to notice that we were coming up on the boys' table.

A panicked feeling bloomed in my chest. Was Allison really going to go over to their table right now? Just as we came dangerously close to disaster, Allison grabbed my forearm and steered me in the direction of the patio outside. I sighed in relief as we walked through the double doors and into the warm fall sunlight. Allison adjusted her jeans, which were tucked into a pair of high-heeled beige boots, and turned her eyes on me. "Stiles needed to see that we're still interacting with you. If he knows that we trust you..." she trailed off.

"Thanks, Allison." I gave her a half-smile.

She smiled back, and we continued on, heading over to the table that held our friends. My eyes swept over everyone: Lydia, Danny, Ashley, Ellie, Chelsea, and even tiny Jill was sitting with us today. Allison and I took our seats on either side of Lydia, who gave us each a pointed look as we sat down. It wasn't hard to tell why, honestly. Chelsea had her arms folded on the table, and her head rested on them. Her auburn hair was knotted, as though she hadn't taken time to brush it, and her normally bright eyes were dull and lifeless. The horror of yesterday seemed to linger in them; the best way to describe her expression was 'haunted'. Ashley and Ellie were whispering quietly to each other, Jill had her head tucked against Danny's shoulder, and Danny was talking openly to Chelsea, trying to get her to eat. She stared at her food disinterestedly. Lydia was unnaturally quiet, daintly sipping her flavored water as she watched the scene before her. Allison and I exchanged a glance, thrown by the mood of the table.

Kyle's death was an awful thing, and it had obviously left Chelsea a little more than just shaken up. She was too pale, her eyes too wide for her face, and it was scaring me. Lydia started talking to Allison about her AP Psychology class, trying to keep some normalcy at the table, until Chelsea jerked herself into an upright position and whispered: "They lied to me."

We all turned to look at her, worry in our eyes. She was staring blankly ahead. "What are you talking about, Chelsea?" Danny asked gently, putting a hand on the small of her back. Chelsea shook it off, eyes darting around to each of us. The sun's light made her face look even more gaunt. I glanced over at Lydia briefly, but she made no effort to return my gaze.

"They said it was a heart attack. How Kyle...how he-died," she choked. "But that's not...possible. He was so healthy; he played lacrosse, did track. He was-planning on going into the military like his dad..." Tears sluiced down her cheeks in torrents. "Th-they lied. Kyle couldn't have died by heart attack. W-why would he be in the woods? He left Bullet at the animal shelter. He would never do that. Never." Her shoulders were shaking now.

My stomach churned sickeningly, and I sqeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't look at the broken girl in front of me. "Chelsea," Ellie began quietly, "they said there wasn't any sort of struggle. The police said that Kyle's death was natural; his cardiac enzyme levels were too high, and-"

"They're lying," Chelsea said through gritted teeth. "Something else killed Kyle, and I want to know the truth!"

Everyone but Lydia, Allison and I gave the girl quiet reassurances and hugs. The three of us simply stared at each other, shaking our heads slightly. I almost broke down. My breathing became more shallow. If Kyle had supposedly died by heart attack, and there were no signs of struggle to show otherwise... What did that mean? How could the alphas have killed the boy if there were no marks to prove so? Allison and Lydia seemed to be thinking the same thing, by the looks they were giving me. Was it possible that Kyle's death really was just some sort of freak coincidence? Ethan and Aiden had seemed genuinely confused enough to make me think so. But that didn't explain why Kyle left Bullet at the shelter on a whim, or why his body had been found in the woods behind the school. My head spun with too many questions.

Lunch drew to a close without much warning. I watched as the rest of the group left the table, my eyes following Chelsea to the door. After they had departed, I turned to face Lydia and Allison. "I know you're thinking the exact same thing that I am," Lydia said after a moment, examining her French tip nails. "Kyle's death couldn't have possibly been natural."

"Technically, it could have been," Allison pointed out. "If there was no sign of struggle...well, how else do you explain that?"

"Something else is going on here," I told them. "We're missing something."

Lydia slung her bag over her shoulder and gave me an appraising look. "Exactly."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XX

There is a difference between giving someone the cold shoulder and completely and totally acting like someone doesn't exist. And as it just so happened, Stiles decided that he wanted to do the latter to me when we entered Algebra II. I tried in vain to think of things to say, but fifteen minutes before class ended, the words still wouldn't come to me. We were doing worksheet after worksheet, so my nerves were already shot. It wasn't my intention to blurt anything out, especially in the middle of class. But unfortunately, that was exactly what happened.

"I know you probably think I'm a bitch for keeping you in the dark."

Stiles didn't turn around, but I saw all the muscles in his back tighten. I could tell he was listening, even though he didn't acknowledge that he was. Several people next to us looked over but said nothing, obviously thinking Apple Juice Girl had finally lost her marbles and was talking to herself. "I know that what I kept from you...I know that it was wrong to do that," I went on, dropping my voice down to a murmur. "You trusted me, and I threw it back in your face. You wanted some normalcy, and I turned everything upside down for you. Again. And I want to say I'm sorry, even if my apology doesn't mean anything to you. Because I am sorry. I'm sorry that I thought I was protecting you, when really I was just trying to protect myself. I'm selfish; I wanted you to like me, so instead of telling you the truth, I kept you in the dark. I just wanted to be normal, and I didn't want to scare you away when you found out that I wasn't."

I gulped back tears, leaning forward in my seat. Stiles tapped his pencil on his desk, knee bouncing. His shoulders were still incredibly tense. "I'm was just so tired of losing people. Of standing by and not being able to do anything. I've always felt so helpless. But I just want you to know...that you can hate me, if you want. Just don't be mad at Scott and the others; they only did what I asked of them. And please, don't let this affect what's going on with the alphas. Scott needs you now more than ever, Stiles. Whatever is happening-they need your help." Sucking in a breath, I reached for the ruby necklace at my throat. Holding on to it sometimes made me feel like a Hale again, not the lost, broken girl I had become. I needed to find that strong side of myself before I could say what I needed to next.

"I'm going to stop Deucalion, no matter what it takes. I'm tired of watching from the sidelines, of being hidden. Words haven't worked-threats won't phase him. I think it's time to fight. I _know_ it is." Stiles stopped tapping his foot. Maybe he was going to say something to me-I wouldn't ever know. The bell rang in the next second, and I was out the door before the Stilinski boy could even blink. It wasn't because I didn't want to know his answer, if he had one. It was because when I had reached for Stiles' emotions after murmuring those words...I came up with nothing. There was a solid wall pushing against me, and I couldn't it breach at all. Stiles had cut himself off from me completely, the first person to ever do so.

I leaned up against the wall nearest to me, trying to steady my breathing. I hadn't been expecting that in the slightest. The shock of not being able to sense anything from Stiles was still pounding through me, making my head whir. Isaac found me like that a few minutes later. He loped over to me, long legs making his strides look effortless. It probably also had something to do with being a werewolf, but I tried not focus on that. He stopped in front of me, face scrunching up as he took in my expression. "So I'm taking it that Algebra didn't go too well?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose wearily. "That's probably the biggest understatement of the century," I groaned, pushing myself off of the wall. Groups of students passed by us, in a mad dash to get to their buses and cars, but I paid them no attention. "He completely ignored me, which I was expecting, but...he also shut off his emotions from me somehow. Completely."

Isaac scratched the back of his head. "Listen, Sera, I know this is going to sound a little harsh, but I probably would have done the same thing," the Lahey boy informed me.

I stared at him. "Why?"

"Well..." Isaac gave me a sideways look. "Most people don't want their feelings sorted through. It kinda makes them seem like an open book, y'know? And now that Stiles knows exactly what you can do, he probably put up some kind of mental block so you couldn't read him. Trust me, guys don't enjoy girls seeing everything their feeling. It's a violation. If I could find some way to block you, I would, but not because I don't like you. Because some things are just supposed to be...personal."

I understood what Isaac was saying, and I felt a little guilty for violating people's emotions. But it wasn't like I asked to taste feelings-most of the time I would really rather not be able to.

"I guess I understand," I finally agreed.

Isaac let out a relieved sigh. "Great. Now I can tell you the good news."

My eyebrows climbed my forehead. "There's good news? That's a first."

Isaac rolled his eyes, which was actually quite amusing to see. "Yes, good news."

We stood there a moment as the hallways began to clear out, and I finally broke the silence. "Well, don't keep me hanging. Spill it."

"Can't," Isaac said with a grin. "It's a surprise."

I blanched, my face contorting in confusion. "But you just said-"

"I know," Isaac cut me off. "Let's go outside, and then maybe I'll tell you."

I gave Isaac a weird look but obliged, slowly trailing after him as he led me out the front doors. I was halfway down the stairs when a voice called: "Sera!"

Turning around quickly, I practically ran head-first into Scott. He stood in front of me, panting slightly, a wild look in his chocolately eyes. "Sera, I-"

"I was just about to tell her." Isaac came to stand beside me, giving Scott the same kind of pointed look Lydia had given Allison and I at lunch.

I placed my hands on my hips, fed up with the boys' nonsense. "Someone better tell me what is going on," I growled.

Isaac held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. Alright, so I talked to Derek, and he knows that you're still kind of upset about last night." I winced at that. "So he suggested that you and Allison and Lydia should have a sleepover or something. I thought it was a pretty good idea, so I asked the girls what they thought before they left school. And since they thought it would help...that's the surprise."

Scott was gawking at Isaac in disbelief, as though he couldn't believe a word the other beta had just uttered. The way they were acting was making me suspicious. "Wait, wait," I said, holding up a hand. "I know what this is about."

Isaac swallowed. "What do you mean?"

I looked back and forth between Scott and Isaac. "Does Derek want the loft to himself so he can..." I cleared my throat. "Uh, have Ms. Blake over?"

Scott gave me a mortified look, and Isaac turned bright red. "N-no!" he gasped. "I mean-I don't...I'm sure that's not it!"

I shook my head. "Oh, sure." My dark hair spilled across my shoulders, and I tossed it out of the way with an imaptient sweep of my hand. "Whatever, guys. If Derek wants to have a girl over, I don't care. All he had to do was say something to me."

"That's not even-" Scott began weakly.

But Isaac elbowed him in the side, shaking his head. There was still something they weren't telling me, but I decided to drop the matter. If it had to do with my brother and one of the teachers at my school, I really didn't want to know.

Scott left a few minutes later, looking like he still desperately wanted to tell me something, and not too long after that, Derek pulled up in the Mom Mobile, Boyd in the passenger seat. I shot Isaac a questioning look, but he simply shrugged and climbed into the back along with me. As soon as I saw my brother, I started grinning without even knowing why. Derek greeted us with a casual 'hey', and then asked me why I was smiling like a lunatic. Isaac buried his face in the seat, looking like he wanted to die of embarrassment. "Oh, nothing," I said with a wave. "Are we going to the loft so I can pick up some clothes for Allison's place?"

Boyd raised his eyebrows, but Derek simply nodded. "Yeah, we're going to get your stuff. What time are you supposed to be over at Allison's?"

I was surprised by how easily Derek was going long with the plan to have me stay at a Hunter's house. He must have really wanted me to be out of the loft...

"I'll drop her off as soon as she gets her stuff," Isaac offered.

"Sounds good to me," I agreed, leaning back against the seat.

When we arrived at the loft, I grabbed a ratty old duffel bag and stuffed my pajamas, toilettries, and clothes for school tomorrow in it. I was also fairly surprised that Derek was letting me stay the night with a friend on school night, but then I realized that even though he techinically could be my guardian, he really had no authority over me. With that thought in mind, I bounded down the steps and slung my bag over my shoulder. Boyd was seated on the couch, and he watched me with the same harsh expression that he normally gave me. I was tempted to stick my tongue out at him, but I fought back the childish urge.

Isaac had a bagel shoved in his mouth, cream cheese on his chin, but he still managed to slide open the heavy metal door to the loft without much of a problem.

Derek was sitting at the table by the window, staring outside with a muted look on his face.

"Have fun!" I called to him before I walked out the door. Derek swiveled around and narrowed his eyes at Isaac. Isaac shrugged, face guilty.

Then he took the bagel from his mouth and said to me in a rush: "Come on, they're probably waiting for you, Sera."

I nodded and followed Isaac outside, watching as the sun made his hair shine like gold. He had the keys in his hand, but before he reached the SUV, I snatched them from him. He called after me in protest, but I was already seated in the driver seat, a grin on my face. I shut the door before he could reach it, sticking the keys into the ignition. Isaac gave me a disgruntled look, but he walked around to the passenger side and got in anyways. "I shouldn't let you drive; Derek will kill me."

"Hm. Well, there's a simple soluttion for that," I told him as he buckled his seat belt.

"What's that?"

I started the Mom Mobile and put it into reverse. "Don't tell him."

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, until Isaac asked what had gotten into me. I stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You just seem...I don't know. Happy? Not like that's a bad thing," he quickly assured me. "It's just-well, you were upset at school earlier, and I was wondering what changed that."

I flipped on my turn signal and turned down Allison's street. "I'm happy for Derek," I told him earnestly. "I think he deserves to have someone who cares about him. He, of all people, deserves that. After what Kate did to him...to us.." I shook my head. "And I think it's because I finally apologized to Stiles. Even if he never forgives me, he knows I'm sorry for what I did. That in itself is a relief." I swung into a parking spot, putting the SUV into park. I looked over at Isaac. "I'm still worried about everything that's happening. I'm still afraid. But I figure that if tonight is the calm before the massive storm, then I should try to not be afraid for once."

Isaac nodded in understanding. "You're brave, you know."

I stared at him in surprise. "I was always afraid, even in the calm," he continued. "I could never let go or rise above what my dad did to me after my brother died. I thought...having Derek change me would make me stronger. But to be stronger, sometimes you have to find your own strength. And you're brave, because you've found what makes you strong."

I bit my lower lip. "What makes me any stronger than you?"

"You believe in people. Allison, Scott, Derek. Stiles. Even after all you've been through, you're fighting against the alphas with all you have. And that means something to me. To all of us, whether we want to admit it or not." Isaac gazed out the window, fingers pressed up against the glass. "I wish I could be like that."

"Sometimes I feel like no matter what I do, I'm useless. I'm not good enough. But now when I look around, I realize that there is still so much left to fight for. We're all fighting, Isaac. We're all strong, and we're all weak. I guess that's just how you have to look at it."

"Remind me to punch Boyd next time he nags about you," the Lahey boy laughed.

I grinned and opened the door. "Oh, I'll make sure that I do. See you tomorrow?"

Isaac unbuckled himself and walked around the car to take over my position. "Yeah, tomorrow. Bye, Sera."

I waved goodbye and turned to head up to Allison's apartment. She had texted me the address shortly after I had arrived at the loft to pick up my clothes, and now I was nervously waiting outside 3B, completely convinced that I was in the wrong place. But when the door opened, I was greeted by the scent of jasmine, and a smiling Allison. "Hey, Sera," she said cheerfully, opening the door wide. "You can come in." It seemed like all the wariness had faded between us, and now we were finally at ease. I grateful stepped into the living room, sniffing as the buttery scent of popcorn wafted through the air. Lydia emeerged from what I presumed was the kitchen a second later, a bowl of the buttery goodness tucked firmly in the crook of her arm.

"Oh, hi, Sera," she said with nonchalance, plopping down on the leather sofa. Lydia's red heels were kicked off by the door, and she already had her hair pulled up into a high ponytail to get it out of her face. It was the most relaxed that I had ever seen Lydia Martin, and the sight almost dumbfounded me. She arched one perfectly waxed eyebrow when she caught me staring. "You can come inside and stop gaping. I'm not going to grow three heads."

Blushing, I took her advice and stepped further inside, cautiously peering around the living room. It was highly modern, with beatiful decorations, color schemes, and paintings. The sofa was seated in front of the fire place, and a coffee table and T.V set were arranged around it. I slipped off my Converse and padded across the Oriental rug, shyly joining Lydia on the couch. Allison had retreated to the kitchen, and now she returned, toting Jolly Ranchers, M&Ms, and what looked like peanut butter fudge, in her arms. "_Now_ we're ready to start the evening," she laughed, setting the sweets on the coffee table.

Lydia leaned over and picked up several DVDs from the ground. "What are we watching?" she asked, holding up one option after another. "Footloose? Bring It On? Or are we going scary, like Jeepers Creepers and Nightmare on Elm Street?"

"I'd rather not watch anything scary," I piped up. "Our lives seem too much like a scary movie."

Lydia shrugged. "True enough. Oh, we could always watch The Notebook!" I saw the tiniest bit of excitement creep over her face. "It's my favorite movie of all time."

Allison groaned from her spot beside me. "Lydia, we watch it every time you come over. And plus, I don't think Sera wants to watch a romantic tragedy tonight."

I shook my head. "Yeah, let's not." Lydia pouted for a moment, then pulled out a newer movie, a comedy called The Internship. Just as she was popping it into the DVD player, a door in the back of the apartment swung open, and a man walked into the living room.

Chris Argent had graying hair, a well-trimmed beard, and piercing eyes. He reminded me a lot of Allison, actually, despite the hard planes of his face. I stiffened immediately upon seeing him, my senses kicking into high gear. Everything in me screamed to run. Because it wasn't just Allison that I saw in Mr. Argent's face-I could see his resembalnce to Kate as well. I swallowed, trying not to be sick as he came over to the couch. "Hey, Dad," Allison greeted. But her eyes were on me, trying to gauge my reaction. Had she told her father that she had invited Derek Hale's younger sister over for movie night? Did he know what I was? Allison had claimed that she and her father had retired from hunting, but some habits die hard. And I didn't want to be on the sharp end of an arrow, by any means.

"You must be Seraphina," Mr. Argent said, sticking out his hand. The gesture was friendly enough, but I could see the wariness in his eyes. I shook his hand slowly, not making any sudden movements.

"Yes, sir." I held his gaze, trying not to seem intimidated.

Mr. Argent dropped my hand and nodded. "Nice to meet you," he finally said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been half expecting him to shoot a wolfsbane bullet straight through my skull. Mr. Argent turned to look at his daughter. "I'm going out for a bit, Allison. You know what time curfew is."

Allison smiled. "Of course. We're just going to watch some movies, Dad. We won't be leaving the apartment."

Argent nodded. "Alright, then. Have fun, girls." His eyes were on me as he slipped on a dark jacket and headed out the door.

As soon as he was gone, Lydia let out a sigh. "Well, that was the definition of awkward," she said brightly, clicking play on the remote. The movie began to start, and I leaned back against the cushions, feeling at ease now that Mr. Argent had left.

"Does he know?" I asked quietly, the previews playing in the background.

"I told him everything," Allison answered. "About how you escaped the fire that Kate set...about you being the scepter. I had to, Sera." Her wide brown eyes were sincere. "I knew that he wouldn't hurt you. I would go after him myself if he tried to. He knows that you're innocent in all of this, and that makes a difference."

I know what to say, so I simply nodded.

"Um, in case you two have forgotten, the reason we're having this movie night is so that we don't have to focus on all of that craziness," Lydia snapped.

Allison rolled her eyes, but soon everything got quiet, and the movie finally began. It was actually really hilarious, and I laughed in all the right places, but there was something deep inside of me that wouldn't let me fully enjoy the movie. I had a gut feeling that something was very, very wrong. As the credits rolled, Allison and Lydia stretched from their respective places on the sofa. Allison covered her mouth as she yawned, and Lydia gathered up her blanket and stood up. "Are you going to the track meet tomorrow?" she asked me abruptly.

I stared up at her, a little taken aback. "Oh. Um, yeah, I think so. I think we all need to get away from Beacon Hills for a day," I replied.

Lydia nodded. "I still haven't decided if I'm going to go or not. If I do, I'm sure as hell not riding in a disgusting school bus with Finstock."

I snorted at that. Typical Lydia. "Oh, I definitely understand."

Before I could say anything else, a searing hot pain flashed behind my eyes. I squeezed them shut in alarm, trying not to cry out, but the pain only intensified. I blinked a million times, but my vision was blurring. And then I saw broken images swirl through my mind in blinding surges of light: there was Isaac's face, terrified, and Scott wolfed out, snarling at someone. I moaned, putting my head between my legs, but it was no use. The images just came faster still: Derek was fighting Deucalion's mate, Kali, who used her talon-like toenails to slash open his cheek. Then the twins were there, and Ennis. The two groups of wolves fought while Deucalion watched from the top of an old, run-down escalator, an amused smirk on his face. I gasped, sitting upright as I caught a glimpse of his sightless red eyes.

Allison and Lydia were crouched down at my beside me, staring at with wide eyes. Apparently they had been calling to me, but I could hear a word they had said. I was breathing heavily, trying to calm my racing heart. I had no idea what had just happened. Those images had came from nowhere, invading my mind almost as if...as if they were a warning. Like a..._Vision_, a voice within me whispered. _A vision of what is to come._

Immediately, my thoughts strayed back to what Deaton had said about me developing other skills. I was beyond freaked out, but I tried to give the girls a shaky smile. I knew whatever I had just seen wasn't something my mind had cooked up; it was very real. And unless I found my pack, things were about to go to hell in a handbasket. "I'm fine," I croaked, sounding completely un-fine. "I just-get these really bad migraines sometimes." I gritted my teeth against the throbbing in my head. "Actually, I take medicine for it, but I left it at the loft. I'm going to...run and get it, okay?"

Lydia and Allison exchanged skeptical looks. "At least let me drive you," Allison offered after a momnet's pause.

I shook my head vigorously. I couldn't let this ruin their night. I needed to go find the others alone. "It'll be faster if I go," I lied. "Werewolf speed, and all."

"Whatever. But if you're not back in thirty minutes, we're going to call Derek," Lydia threatened, crossing her arms over her chest.

I managed to stand up and make my way over to the door. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face Lydia and Allison one last time before I left. "I'll see you in a bit."

But when I walked down the stair of the apartment building, I knew what I said was a lie.

I wasn't even out on the street before I heard the sound of snarling. My eyes raked over the parking lot and the neighboring buildings, and I tried to hone in on the noise. I was coming from the huge mall complex a few buildings down. I remembered when the place had closed down; the town officials had claimed that they were going to remodel it, but they didn't have the funds, and the whole entire deal sank the place for good. Now it was mostly abandoned, save for a few teenagers who snuck in to drink their hearts out on the weekends.

Tonight, however, the building was anything but abandoned. I jogged across the street, trying not to make myself look too inconspicuous. The building loomed over me, large and gray, and in the evening sunlight, it almost reminded me of the bank. Shaking that thought from my head, I examined the doorways. They were chained shut, much to my disappointment. In truth, if I tried hard enough, I probably could have ripped the metal apart. But since it was the middle of the day and there were people walking down the street, I decided that perhaps that wasn't the best idea. Instead, I walked around the side of the building, swiftly taking in my surroundings. The window in the far right corner was busted in, and with little hestitation, I lowered myself through it, shimmying so I wouldn't get glass stabbed through my side. Dropping to the ground, I assessed the situation quickly.

Derek was already fighting Kali, and his cheek was bleeding, just as I had Seen. Isaac and Boyd were being tossed around by Ethan and Aiden, who had morphed into one hulking figure. Their alpha form was sufficiently terrifiying, and I could see the fear and anger on Isaac's face from where I stood in the shadows. Scott was desperately swiping at Ennis, who sneered and lunched at the beta with a toothy sneer. I watched as Kali kicked Derek across the face yet again, making blood spurt from his nose. I was rooted to the ground, horror-stricken.

How had this happened? Who had started this fight that was obviously leading to carnage? Deucalion stared down at his pack from the next floor, his smile smug. I wanted to rip it from his face. I ran into the fray, unable to stand it anymore. "Stop!" My scream was shrill.

Both packs froze, their eyes landing on me. I walked until I was standing in the center of the room. My chest was heaving; loathing for the alphas coursed through me, making me lethal. Hands shaking with rage, I gazed up at Deucalion. "Stop this."

"Sera," Derek gurgled, spitting blood out of his mouth. "What are you doing here?! You're supposed to be with Allison!" Kali tightened her grip on my brother's throat, teeth dangerously close to his jugular. I swallowed, looking around me. Scott was wheezing, completely wolfed-out, as were the others. He was crawling across the floor, his clothes in shreds, trying to put some distance between himself and Ennis. Isaac was unconcious on the ground a few feet away from me, blood gushing in a steady stream from a deep cut on his leg. Boyd's head was pinned under the twins' foot, and he struggled, snarling up at them. We were almost defeated without even getting started.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Let them go!"

Deucalion chuckled. "Oh, my dear, you misunderstand. We haven't done anything. If Scott had just followed instructions, no one would have ended up in this sticky situation."

"What are you-talking about?"

Deucalion twirled his walking stick around slowly. "Scott was supposed to come alone and speak with us, of course. But your brother thought he could outsmart everyone. The funny thing about that is...well, I'm sure you can see the irony. You're truly not the brightest, are you, Derek?" My brother growled from his spot on the floor, and Kali snapped her teeth in his face, red eyes glowing. "But, yes, I think it was rather noble of him to try to save you from your fate, Seraphina. I just don't think he understands that it isn't possible. You are bound by powers you can't even begin to understand, and you hinder them with the desire to do good." Deucalion shook his head. "You waste your potential on those who are afraid of you. They will all abandon you, just as your human boy did when he learned what you is name...Stiles?"

I lunged forward, screaming in fury, and shifted into my wolf form. Deucalion seemed amused by my anger, and he laughed as Kali grabbed me by the hair and slammed me face-first into the concrete. I could feel my nose break, and blood poured from it as I rolled up into sitting position, hopelessly trying to yank myself free from the alpha female's grip. "Now, now," she purred, twisting my arm behind my back. I howled in pain. "The big kids are playing, darling. Stand back and watch if you don't want to get your hands dirty."

She released me, and I scrambled to my feet, letting a fearsome growl slip from between my sharp teeth. Derek gave a wet cough and stood, his eyes lighting up to a murderous red. "The solution to this problem is quite simple, Seraphina," Deucalion told me. I looked up at him, my face dripping crimson onto the ground below. "Kill your brother, and we'll let the others live. You'll be an alpha, and then there will be no one to stand in your way." I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, baring my teeth at the man behind everyone's suffering. "You know you've always dreamed of it-getting rid of the one who left you for dead, who brought the monster that murdered your family into your life. Derek is the source of all your problems, Seraphina." The alpha's voice drifted eerily down to me, stopping me dead in my tracks. "If you can get rid of Derek, you can finally be happy."

I stared at Deucalion for a moment, then spat the blood onto the ground. "You're sick," I hissed, "if you really think I would kill my own brother. Besides..." I pulled myself upright, eyes glinting. "I'd much rather kill you instead."

I threw myself forward again, and his time Derek followed me, swiping Kali across the cheek with his claws. Ennis roared in rage, stomping over to us and leaving Scott unguarded on the floor. The McCall boy hoisted himself to his feet, stumbling, and came to join Derek and I in our journey to reach Deucalion. Deucalion sensed the instant threat and backed away as we charged up the motionless elevator steps. Before we could reach him, however, Ennis was there, blocking our path. He back-handed me across the face before I could blink, and I went flying into the concrete pillar a few feet away, my head slamming into it with tremendous force. I watched as Ennis swiped Scott across the chest, leaving deep, bloody slashes. Scott fell to the ground. I couldn't move; tears were in my eyes as I struggled to drag myself barely an inch across the floor. Derek and Ennis were battling now, two alphas that snarled dangerously at each other. Derek punched Ennis across the face, and Ennis returned the favor by swinging Derek around, getting ready to throttle him.

They were far too close to the edge. I know that now.

I saw the way that Ennis lost his footing, his hands still tightly gripping my brother's shredded T-shirt. I saw the way Scott's eyes widened, the way he tried to pull himself across the floor to reach Derek. But it was too late. Ennis went over the edge, dragging Derek with him, and I screamed for all I was worth.

And then I saw a form lunge forward from the shadows and catch my brother's outstretched hand.

My scream turned into a broken sob as I watched Boyd pull Derek up over the side, panting slightly. Scott seemed relieved; his eyes closed briefly, and, wincing, he forced himself to his feet. I stared down at my left shoulder, which was searing with pain. The force of me slamming into the wall had dislocated it, I was almost positive. Still, I rolled over to my uninjured side and pushed all my weight onto it, trying to rise to my feet. My head spun sickeningly when I finally managed to achieve my goal. Kali was screaming from somewhere below us, and the twins were snarling, and Deucalion was barking commands...And then a brilliant white light shot through the room, blinding us all. I heard a girl shouting for us to run, and when the light cleared a bit, I finally saw what was happening: Allison Argent was a few yards away, her bow and arrows in hand. She fired another light arrow down below us, blinding Kali and the twins.

"Go!" she shouted, shooting another arrow down below. I tried my best to make my way over to Scott, Derek, and Boyd, and then we joined together and helped each other down the stairs, shielding our eyes from the painful light. Allison sprinted after us, continuing to shoot vollies of arrows at the alpha pack. Stumbling, I looked around wildly when we reached the bottom.

"Where's Isaac?!" I screamed. My eyes darted to where he had been lying on the ground, but he was no longer there.

"Here," he mumbled, limping to my side. His right eye was completely swollen shut, but I had never been happier to see him.

"Let's go! Move!" Allison commanded. No one argued with her. We all stumbled outside onto the sidewalk, looking like we had just came from a war zone. Allison pushed passed us, motioning us to her car. I fell into the backseat without protest, and Boyd slipped in beside me. Scott claimed the passenger seat. Allison literally jumped into the car, starting the engine and roaring out onto the street in almost a blink of an eye.

"Where are Derek and Isaac?" I called. Allison offered no answer. I sat up, suddenly feeling cold. "Where's my brother?"

"They're right behind us," Allison said through gritted teeth. "Derek drove there, like an idiot." She looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Actually, I won't save the insults for just him. You're all idiots for going in there like that."

Scott shook his head, clutching his shoulder. "I was just supposed to talk to them," he finally gasped. "But then Derek and Boyd and Isaac showed up. They wanted you to stay out of danger, Sera, or I would have told you what was going on after school."

"That's what you were trying to tell me," I groaned.

"Having you stay the night with Allison and Lydia was Isaac's smooth way of keeping you all out of danger. He didn't tell Allison or anyone what he was doing," Scott said.

"No. He didn't." Allison sped up, heading full-speed to the loft.

I closed my eyes and tried not to focus of the terrible pain of my shoulder trying to heal. "I guess it's only fair that someone would keep a secret from me, huh?" I laughed dryly.

No one answered me.

When we finally had all gathered in the loft, broken and battered, I realized who had missed the whole escapade. "Where's Peter?"

Boyd gritted his bloody teeth. "He didn't want to play any part in what we were doing. Didn't figure it was worth it..."

"That son of a..." I began, but I couldn't even finish. Peter wasn't even worth my breath.

I turned to face Derek. He was stretched out on the couch, his bare chest gleaming with blood and sweat. I dropped down on my knees beside him, staring at him through narrowed eyes. "You asshole!" I hissed.

He looked up at me through half-lidded eyes, his gaze somewhat unfocused. I pounded the couch with my fist, fully aware that everyone was watching me. "You scared me to death!" Tears ran down my cheeks, and I wiped them away angrily. "I can't believe y-you! You almost _died_, Derek! What would I do-if you died?!" I sobbed.

Derek closed his eyes and pulled me toward his chest. I let my face rest against him as I cried, my body going limp as the pain and sorrow overtook me. Derek placed his chin atop my head, holding onto me like I would vanish into thin air.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

How I managed to escape the loft before sunset, I had no idea. All I knew was that I needed to get away, to be alone. I needed time to sift through my thoughts and breathe. Even if leaving by myself and wandering down the streets was the worst possible plan ever, it was the only plan that came to mind. And it was the only plan that seemed worth my while.

So I went to to Chino and Ginger, the bookstore closest to the loft, and I sat down at one of the metal tables, a scarf wrapped around by severely bruised face. The bruises would be gone by tomorrow, but for now, they were enough to score me a free coffee from the coffee shop inside the bookstore. I sipped the brew slowly, _A Tale of Two Cities _spread out before me on the table. I just needed to escape for a while, and finishing my book seemed like the best way to do so. I was there for almost an hour before I felt like I was being watched.

A defeated feeling swept over me. If the alphas had enough grit to come and drag me to my death while I sat at the local bookstore, then they could just freaking have me. I was expecting an assault. I wasn't, however, expecting to hear someone speaking to me.

"You know, that book ends exactly just as you expect it to," said a voice from somewhere behind me. "With Carton sacrificing himself for the greater good, and all. He finally finds his 'purpose'." The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up, and I froze in my seat. My body was still aching, and going stiff didn't help the pain at all. Suddenly, my coffee wasn't so sweet-I could taste the residue left from the bitter grounds. And that voice-I had heard that voice before. The lilting Britsh accent and smooth pronunciation. Shivering, I clutched my mug of coffee closer to me and turned slightly in my metal seat. My eyes located the speaker within a second, widening greatly.

There were several tables lined up outside of Chino and Ginger, but the one behind me just so happened to habor the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. And I don't say that lightly.

He had one foot lazily propped up on the chair beside of him. I looked from his long, lean khaki-clad legs up to his thin torso with broad, well-defined shoulders. When my gaze finally made it up to the boy's face, I was met with a pair of startlingly blue eyes. They were a brilliant aquamarine hue, as deep as the Carribean itself. His dirty blond hair was carelessly gelled, tousled almost.

The boy's face reminded me of a sculpture-all sharpness and angles. Long, golden eyelashes brushed the tops of high cheekbones, his full lips were upturned, and his uniquely intriguing eyes danced with a curiosity and humor that was...almost akin to a look Stiles would have given me. But like many beautiful boys, the guy in front of me radiated a sense of arrogance. "Sacrifice is a lovely thing," the boy continued. "It's amazing to see what people will do for the ones they love."

"It was you," I hissed. "You were the one at Ashley's party the other night."

"Yes, very good." The boy grinned even more widely. "You remembered my voice, hm?"

I felt my insides turn to ice. "Who are you ?" I asked, almost certain I knew the answer.

The boy dropped his leg from the chair and faced me fully, eyes flashing mischeviously. "You already know that, Seraphina. But perhaps you want me to play along?" I stared at him stonily. "Of course." The boy swept into a half bow, still seated. His smirk was infuriating. "I'm Liam Devereaux, love. Deucalion the Great's nephew."

I struggled to keep my heartbeat steady, but Liam must have heard the irregular thumping. His sly grin grew. "And what do you want from me, Liam?" I demanded, my voice unsteady.

Liam put his hands behind his head and winked at me, taking me completely off gaurd. But what he said next was what really threw me. "Well, I want almost the exact same thing you do, Seraphina-I want my uncle dead."

**Ughh, sorry for the wait, once again. It's been soooo crazy since band season and school started. I just want to thank you guys for your continued support and awesome reviews. :) You make me happy. By the way, I don't own Teen Wolf. Unfortunately. Oh, and I also wanted to inform everyone that you can follow my tumblr to see new updates for Ignite and the face claims for my characters. My username is kaljara, and my blog is I Tell Myself That It Will All Make Sense One Day. Hope you guys check it out!**

**Also, don't forget to check out Breaking the Barriers! It's kinda amazing, guys. :D**

**And lastly, I'm going to do something special for my 100th reviewer. I'll PM them, and they can ask me almost any question about the story, and I will answer truthfully! Or they can request a special exerpt of a future chapter. It's up to you guys, though. Review, review, review! Thanks so much, lovelies. You're all beautiful people. :)**


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